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Originally Posted by Smelnick
There's a certain joy in an urban setting.
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It's pretty rural where I live. Even in the 'downtown' areas there isn't much in the way of urban development, which is kinda nice, I'll grant, but can also be kinda dull. When I visited one of my friends in Boston two years ago, I took a metro to the heart of the city from a smaller town in east Massachucetts, traveling underground most of the way. When we got out to the city, I was awestruck. Up until this point, I had never seen a building over 30 stories, but huge skyscrapers lined every side the street here, with office complexes and stores taking up all the gaps. I looked like a total goof standing there with my neck bent back trying to see the tops of all of them, but a big city to me is like a gigantic art decor piece with hundreds of massive parts. Some moving, some stationary, but it's like a living monument to human engineering, mathematics, construction, and social patterns.
One of the big things I've always really liked was the Moon. It's never out of the public consciousness or anything, but when you stop to think about it, the Moon is pretty amazing. It's big, it's bright, and it hangs over top of us every night with no one taking immediate notice. Imagine if something else of equal size and luminousness just appear out of nowhere in the sky - we'd be pretty freaked out! It's also old. Real old. Like, on a cosmic scale. The same moon we look at has been in the same place and viewed by human kind for the entirety of our existence. Before that, Dinosaurs looked at it, and before that, plankton and nautili swam around under its light in a global ocean. If the Moon could talk, just imagine what it could tell us. I know it's a rock, I know it's made up of dust and sediment and full of scarring craters and possibly green cheese, but I've always really liked it.
Jam it back in, in the dark.
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