Dear City, You Are Sucking At My Soul

First published on April 1, 2021

Dear city, you are sucking at my soul. No more the recharging energy of the masses. No more the invigorating trips through your veins and arteries. No more the laughter, love, energy and ideas spilling out of the pub onto the pavement. No more the cultural centres, alive with activity. No more the art, seeping from basements and amphitheatres. No more the thrumming of business, the ancient majesty of politics, the slow wander of tourism. No more the surprise of a new corner in the park or a new corner of the city.

Just the concrete blocks and glass cubes and the same circuits.

Dear city, I know it's not your fault really. For we have taken your soul from you. We took the blood from your veins. No more do the conversations, romance, conflict and commerce fire your synapses. No more do the food and drinks and music and theatre light up your neurons. No more do your ancient bones move us. No more, often, do the lights even go on.

Dear city, I'm sorry. When you wake from this slumber, you may be different. Many of us have left, seeking the nourishment that we need, that you can't provide when you're like this. And after this, forever, some things will be different. It may never be the same. For so many millennia you and your brothers and sisters have been a critical condition of human innovation and ingenuity. But there's something different now, that abstract system of connectivity that we have been relying on in your absence. It doesn't feed our soul like you do, when your soul is here, at least. But it does something amazing, too, like you do, when your soul is here.

Dear city, I hope to see you soon. I hope that the blood will soon pour through your veins again, that your parks will come alive with laughter and music and hugs. I hope your ancient bones will come alive again and your new centres will thrum with life. I hope new generations will see your beauty like I have, will feel your life like I have.

Dear city, please come back. But come back stronger, and more alive. Invite the aliveness of all of us into presence, not like before, but better. I need you. I need you, and your soul, to nourish me. Or I'll need to leave. Because the greyness of the comatose city is not a place for the human spirit. We can't go on like this, you and we. Something will have to change.