And they try to deceive us creating pop-up parks around the city centre. Giving us hope that pure air surrounds. But truthfully it’s beneath layers of the thick scent of betrayal and as another pop-up park erects between the city centre – we pick the flowers from its nurtured soil and hand it to our child and say “Can you say flower?”. And they grow up to believe that true beauty lies between suits and ties, tall buildings and banks. But not within fields and landscapes that leave you breathless. Rather breathless they march around the city centres looking for flowers. But little do they know once picked, it is ruined, death awaits. We are a concrete jungle waiting to be destroyed. We are just cement and tar hoping to be a pop-up park, hoping to betray our land. Trying to deceive. “Can you say ruined?”.
Another Fly On The Wall 