Prose

The Reflection of Lost Civilization

Thousands of big cities forgot about their destination. They dissolved in the smoke from chimneys and strangled in the smog. Hundreds of big cities lost their faith in human and citizen. The registry offices destroyed the acts of humanity. Dozens of big cities were floated by rivers of their own memories. All compromises with the future burnt utterly. Few big cities released puffs of fumes in the shape of questions marks. They are still not sure about the sense of their existence. One big city didn’t understand the beef of its predecessors. It petted the jade pavements and sugarcoating candy clouds by the power of persuasion, it leant its immature head on the sunny ray of eternity. Other cities were flabbergasted, outraged, because – how is it possible – the crisis joy, the black endorphins, that’s banned. But the one city insolently maintained its look at an altitude of the highest skyscrapers. It lasted relentless and its inhabitants were learning goodness from scratch. Today their memory is present in the faces of some of the passers-by. But they belong to the minority of the society. If you think about it, they penetrate us as the air.

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