Walking through the trees with the sun in the sky and the wind slightly less temperamental than the day before, he knows it’s a beautiful day. He looks past the cars and stares at the wide expanse of Hyde Park and all his mind could bear was that this city is beautiful as its greenery. A city can’t be beautiful without flaunting what it was before; its roots and its foundation; the only things that could support the bustling bus lanes and the chatty students roaming the grey-coloured compound of that majestic library. One can easily tell the difference if any sort of greenery in a city is sincere or not; whether it is being shown off to its people or just existing in the form of a few pots in a shopping mall.
Although he knows it will never be good and green enough back at home, he brushes off any indifferent thoughts because at this fleeting moment, his eyes are pleasured by the sight of Mother Nature dominating this side of the city; and, she banishes any thoughts of ever being pushed over by miniature, insignificant and contract-signing life forms. “The economy has other ways to recover,” she always muses.
Across the park, he sees the trees merging into the field’s shade of green and as the people silhouette against the bark…
“We are one,” he thinks.
Facing the uphill of his road back, thoughts of struggling with knee pain vanished in an instant as the beauty of the day deserved more attention that annoying muscle soreness.
“This day is so beautiful. Everything about it just is; but, it would be more beautiful with you by my side; and, with your hand in mine.”