Moscow Rush Hour

Standing at a distance, listening to the din of daytime auto traffic, watching billowing clouds of steam float into the autumn sky from tall smokestacks, I pondered about the goings on in the rest of the world. One couldn't tell from where I was, just that I was there, feeling free to gaze out into something undefinable, yet waiting to be rediscovered. The world beyond my sight was hoping for my return, but I wasn't ready yet.
There would be a time when I'll jump back in to the drone of contemporary life. This scene I was witnessing wasn't just contemporary, but dawned on me that it must've been a scene that never changed at all. It was a scene that could've been from the 1930s as much as a contemporary one. I was living in a moment that stretched forever.