I sit alone on the third floor. I ruminate, focusing on the present. The thoughts filter in, colors of the rainbow, words sound so bright. Hapless, I fall into a trance of pictures and immerse myself in their images. I am smiling. I know this place.
I pace in front of the window, on the third floor. The sun streams through the glass pane. I am blinded by the light. Shadows dance across the floor. The warmth of the sun turns my cheeks a rosy red. I close my eyes and soak up the intense, the fierceness, the brilliance.
I walk down the corridor, of the third floor. Walls cool to the touch, fingertips tingling. Footsteps echo, dust bunnies scurry to the corner. I see no one, yet I am not alone. I feel energy in the soles of my feet. Like a ballet dancer, I glide, toes pointed. I know where I am going.
I stand on the sidewalk, staring up at the third floor. People pass by speaking their own language, words mixed with emotion, swirls of color fly by. Cars drive past me in the street, horns blaring, a cacophony of engines, waging their war on the black top. The air is gritty and I do not mind. I drink in the city, and feel her roar beneath me.