Layers I

It was beautiful. The sky was just lighting up with the colors of the dawn, the sun stretching and rays of light showing all of their magnificent glory. Red, orange, yellow, all the colors merging, mixing, matching in between. Everything was glorious, beautiful. Everything was one. The light shone on the ground, not too bright, not too harsh, just right. It bounced off the buildings, the magnificent skyscrapers, the glimmering, polished glass windows, glass buildings, the steel shimmering with joy, not with the heat of mirages. The sound was the sighing of cars, the humming of engines, fumes, that did not smell, birds that were pecking for food, peckish, fat, wide, calm. The smell of yeasty bagels and dark black ‘caw-fee’. The air tasted of dreams and of ambition.

The buildings were magnificent, skyscrapers that kissed the top of the world. Those that lived in the clouds would see the world down below, the kingdom of their labor, if they ever stayed in this one of many of their residences for long enough. Those that worked in this olympus of the world would appreciate the views below if they ever stopped being concerned about continuing to work in the skies. Billboards lined the square. Light shining off of them, bright, glaring, but warm and embracing. Showing the world the glory of this city, this iconic city, those iconic billboards. This was a city for the young. The young shall inherit the earth.

The streets were a ramshackle grid of chaos, arranged in no particular order, in this lovingly named square. Here more than others in the city was the most space for those with cameras strapped around their necks, cameras no more, phones strapped to their hands, to walk. At the moment, there were a few pipes, funnels like chimneys, letting off steam from the ground below. There were a few bright yellow cabs, there were a few cars. It was still too early for the people to be getting to work.

The buildings gleamed and shone in the greatest city on the planet. In its most iconic square, the things that never sleep were keeping the legend alive. The billboards lit up the sky in this most iconic of squares. Hot dog vendors, halal cart vendors, honey roasted nut vendors were unlatching their steel carts off of their cars. Around them, the signs on buildings glimmered like christmas lights. Black boards reeled off news, information running through them at the speed of light. In this tribute to capitalism, the forgotten lay forgotten. Beneath blankets that were too thin, clothes that were too torn and bedraggled, their faces untrimmed, unwashed for so many days. In this land of excess, there were those that had none. The rest chose to see them as invisible. They smelled but none noticed, none bothered to pay them any heed, any attention. For they were far too engrossed in their own worries and problems. In the land of plenty, in eden itself, peel away just one layer, and you would see all the flaws of heaven itself.