Hate, and love. Hate for my environment, the urban jungle I call home. It surrounds and suffocates me, choking with its rush, its deadlines, its never-ending rat race to climb up the corporate tree. We swing from one monolithic structure to another, chasing the dangled banana of promotions. Love, however, is for the nature. Love of the morning sun kissing my cheeks, of songs by the birds and the bees, of the rushing river, of the virgin air that greets your lungs. Love for what is real, what is true, what is spiritual, what is natural.

For what is.