Betsy Brody

The City

Betsy Brody
The City

I grew up in the country and the first time I saw the looming buildings that scrape the sky I was four years old. I thought they were so high that they might scrape the stars from the sky and they’d fall down around us, and everything was so shiny I thought maybe they already had. The first time I experienced anonymity, I felt like I could breathe, I was just one insignificant drop in a sea of many, not easily discernible from those around me, I was hidden. Not even the men that jeered at me while they slept in the street with their dirty blankets and missing teeth could scare me, they were just people and I was a gone cat who had the world at my feet. I no longer wished to flit through the fields or swim in the streams, this common rat race, this concrete jungle, this was the place for me.

 

It is in the darkest of alley ways that I find the greatest comfort. In the bustling of people that I find the most quiet. It is in the grime of the trains running underground that I find the most inspiration.


Photo and story by Millie Murfit