urban wanderlust

there's something enchanting me
in each brick I pass
in this close proximity
in a place close enough to feel familiarly like home
and far enough away to allow a lifetime of discovery.

my soul knows
that any city is home
as long as there are lights
and theaters
and millions of people
who frequent the tiny corner restaraunts.

so I am comforted
by the sounds my heels make as they plod along pavement, syncopating idling engines, rhythmic in accompaniment to the melodic hum cities make.
and there is contentment in the bubbling conversation of passers-by, in each nameless face that walks past me on the street.
Home is where the people are
at least for me.