Freedom and dirty streets

 Freedom and streets.



What is freedom? Every body seems to have a different interpretation of it. Some people think it is something that you can hold in the palm of your hand and examine like a child, and yet, for some people it is something so unbelievably abstract that no one can have it. The truth is that no one truly knows what freedom is, and that is probably why so many people spend their lives seeking it out; freedom from need, freedom from want. freedom from hunger, freedom from pain, and in all of these things, that want for freedom holds a much darker meaning, for without pain, hunger, death and destruction, how will we know what it is to be free?

Staring out the window at a space that was far too familiar, far to similar to everything else. The black, dirty, saturated asphalt hardly seem special or interesting, yet I was staring at it. It, like every thing else here seemed so plain, so harsh. Maybe, maybe it was because "here" was a place that the sun didn't shine, the only grass we had "here" was yellow and withered, sun-deprived, it echoed the people. The people here are hungry, frail, desperate, and seemingly all insomniacs. All the time, be it day or night, the perpetually feeling of being watched by someone -or something- was everywhere, it hung over the asphalt and withered grass like a miasma. I kicked a rock near my fear and watched apathetically as it fell into the storm drain, the mild feeling of satisfaction that came from manipulation one's environment came over me, and a small smile flashed over my lips, though it faded as I lifted up my head to look at the street ahead of me, sighing. I looked behind me, where am I going? I thought, I had no idea. I knew where I came from, the past isn't scary, it's always the future, the freedom of possibility that's terrifying. I turn my head forward, taking that first step ahead of me, and a feeling of what I can only describe as freedom came over me. Suddenly, everything, fear of the future, a fear of freedom, seemed irrational. I threw back my head, laughing at my self, and walking forward, looking up at the sun, rising over the grey buildings.

- Mariella