We sit in front of the river at lunchtime. A line of scattered cars watching the seagulls swoop into the water, pulling up food. We watch them compete for the solitary piece of bread that is laying on the ground. We sit in parks and watch the birds because birds are art; an expression of God. We watch the way the wind blows through the trees and the leave's reactive sway like music. We watch everything moving around us, going somewhere with purpose and we stand perfectly still. We don't know what keeps us here or what brings us back, but every day, these cars line the pier. We live busy lives too, but find our peace in the quiet hum of the wind pushing across the surfaces; in the hair lifting off of our foreheads as it joins the sway of the leaves.
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