Morning musings

There is no city square on this island city.

A wide, open space where you can hear chatter but not close enough to listen. A big open space where you can see people and think them beautiful, but not close enough to really know. An inspiring volume of room for the digestion and creation of small and big ideas. A platform for people from all walks of life and skill to express themselves and in the process, show off a little bit.

There will be no pigeons in my city square. We already have a plethora of them in our democracy.

There is a wide field by the seaside. In the morning it is usually wet, and if it is early enough life within is just stirring to their feet. The city's twin municipal council buildings overlooked the area, its distinct English design giving out a Victorian look.

In the morning the entire place runs in dew and looks rather sad and gloomy. Just like the field Gordon Gekko went to meet his broker-turncoat Bud Fox in the film Wall Street, their jackets wet from rain and their faces tensed.

If I could have my way with it, the trees would be more protective of the greenery they surround and create. No person standing in the middle of the field would be able to see the city, only hear it. Let the sea and the vintage buildings be seen sparingly, obscured by leaves and branches, but let the sight of the city be lost, even if momentarily, for the good it could do.

Perhaps the way we build our cities reflect the way we think: no room to pause and ponder, no public reclusive spot to breath and think and gaze.