The skies might be leaden today, but don’t let the weather fool you, for the City by the Lake is impervious to it. Of course the monochrome dampens her beauty, but at the same time, it deepens it. You need to look a little closer now, come a little nearer; suddenly, you realise that this place is not what you thought at all. In the light, you see only through the hasty eyes of youth, touching on shimmering surfaces full of temptation. Now, that the gloaming obscures the City’s evident charms, your gaze may focus inward, and follow the mysteries.
He has tuned his motorbike to a low, grumbling thunder. It is black, as is his attire, down to the impenetrability of his visor. He is therefore heard before he is seen, an approaching menace, the onset of fury. He is heard, even, over the din of the City.
But the City is unforgiving, and she plays favourites; he is not one of them. She might have paved his way, but all the while she is raising obstacles in his path. Her roads are winding, her inclines steep.
He roars as best he can, and the City, unimpressed, turns away.