Light is my oxygen

Contrast is typical in the city. From concrete bleeding, we move on to the soft sieving of trees about to fall asleep, only to return, in the end, to the pharaonic angles of the buildings.

My neighborhood is a good example of this. All you have to do is reach a small park two blocks from my house to enjoy the peace and quiet. All you have to do is go back to the metropolitan area to be reminded that our debts cannot be paid with the sun.

My body, senses, and thoughts record these visual, climatic changes. Despite the poor air quality, I widen the lungs, widen the irises and let the oxygen of life flow through me.