Arthur's Seat cliff

Arthur's Seat cliff. The city sprawls below like a map drawn by a restless cook, alleys simmering, rooftops sipping the last gold of the day. 

Up here the wind cleans the palate and I can taste quiet between distant sirens. I think about the people finding their way.

Lovers late for dinner, a baker dusted in flour, a kid chasing a bus and a dream. The rock does not judge. It has seen empires and hangovers. 

In this warm hush nature and street shake hands. Green kisses brick. Old stone keeps the city honest while the city keeps the heart awake. I carry both with me, a simple recipe for being alive. Breathe. Laugh. 

Take the long way home. 

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