Sky Garden, The Walkie-Talkie

Cities of the future.

Let me lose myself; here, in the organised chaos of it all.

Amongst the high rises and low expectations, let me retreat into the dappled leaves and swing, from branch to branch,

higher and higher still in this veritable Babel of glass and vine.

For the first time

I am rendered speechless

by skyscrapers that do not scrape the surface

of a feeling long forgotten yet somehow,

resurfaced. Repurposed.

Tell me how I have found myself

as I least expected it

in this strange cocoon of soft jazz and silken jungle. It does not make any sense.

And yet.

Everything has led up to this very moment.

To this very story, thirty-five stories in the air.

I wonder. Where do we go from here?