And no one knows the wheres or whys
In the day, in the evening, the city chokes in its own breath. The sun has set and it's past midnight. Only the echoes of the day could be heard. In those echoes we live. In those echoes we breathe.
No one showed us to the land. But we are here. We do not see it. We do not know it.
We hear only its echoes.
Somewhere there are our parents. We do not know them. We do not see them.
We hear only their echoes.
We run, circles we run around the skyscrapers we run in the playgrounds for the bored we run and we bang our fists and ask for more. The dream. Supersized.
Around the skyscrapers we run. Chasing the echoes.
Echoes of our parents' steps. Echoes of ourselves within our memories. Where are we now? What were we thinking then?
Can anyone hear me?
I hope I am making a sound.
sound
sound
sound
...
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