Within the suburbs of this town, though, it is unusually quiet. We are not a closely knit neighborhood, but rather know each other by glimpses of the backs of vague heads on voting day or at town hall meetings. I have lived here for nine years, almost ten, shopped in almost every store, eaten at almost every restaurant, and recognized my town not for its people, but for its size, its bustle.
Today, though, I walked through these stores, the hundreds of them, walked through the curbs, through the street that lead to the town hall. But today, I saw something entirely different-- I saw a sunset, a patch of flowers, butterflies, buds, fallen leaves. I snapped these:
And after these nine years, I have realized that my town is more than a conglomeration of shopping complexes. It is a place of beauty.