hazy day outside as people roam the streets in search of something to do.
visitors, tourists, and other interesting folks all scurry through the busy streets, dodging taxi cabs. and the police cars as they grace washington with that lovely music, better known as emergency sirens.
don't forget the poorly clothed along Pennsylvania Avenue, who feebly or brashly ask for a dollar. who smell to human noses and offend our senses, but are looked on with kindness by the Lord.
majestic buildings and institutions peer over their marble slabs to look at the passersby. confused people all grasping. children in their mother's hands, look up and point to the large buildings and ask questions.
i ask questions too. like: what's the deal with this town?
i sometimes wonder, what does God think about Washington?
this place stridently clothes itself in pompous architecture and ancient tones. like it's trying to build a pathway to heaven. it is perhaps an attempt at becoming the tower of babel.
to paraphrase mircea eliade: Every city believes that it's the center of the universe. cities since the beginning of time, all have their special purpose and destiny--all claiming to be "divinely inspired" or God's favorite.
Cameron
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