Tiny

From the sky their houses look so small. Streets so narrow. People less and trees tiny. 

And their magnificent buildings so minute, with little doors, tiny windows, and trees. Oh and trees, so so many little trees. And little nests in them with even little-er birds. 

And tiny weddings. Little lights. Small dreams. And tiny plans. And little places to hang your petit coat when an honest day's work is through. 

Traffic island

In the midst of the chaos, I found her, steady as a ship, unaffected by the storm. She gazed, immutable, at something in the distance. Neither did she move nor make a sound, yet all around her they scurried like field mice below deck. 

Was it a state of calm or one of shock? Did she hold the wisdom of when to react and to what? Or did she lack the means to? Was it peace or pain that kept her this way?

These things I will never know, for as she began to turn my way, the traffic broke, drawing me away from her little traffic island.