through the naked trees to the world below

I step out the back door to my office and look out through the naked trees to the world below. I see the highways, the train tracks, and runways of modern transit; all of them busy. I take a drink from my water and notice how clear I can hear the sounds: my fingers touching the bottle, the threads of the lid sliding against each other, the sounds of my throat pushing the water down. Distinct.

My mind goes back to the busy world below. I watch the vehicles move and take notice of the dull hum of thousands of lives. I hear it, or maybe sense it, but I don’t feel the presence of the people. Their actions blur into one mass of indistinct movement, noise, and existence. I take another drink of water and realise that I am alone.

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