Out and back
It's the city that makes you long for a getaway (however short) but you are secretly afraid you might not resist the temptation to keep running until facing some desolate shore and than only boat and airplane will be able to save you carrying over the great water.
Leaving the city lifts your spirits and gives an illusive hope. Seeing life on the outside fills you with refreshing ideas on how wonderful it would've been to never come back.
The sun is shining on your dreams that you dare to dream again, simple things soften the heart and slowing pace releases coiled up for years tension in a slow lazy motions. It seems unreal at first, being off the insane track, living and breathing effortlessly and without the dread of the looming day ahead.
Days are passed in a string of new (or long forgotten) pleasures and impressions painted stroke after stroke on an innocently fresh canvas.
The City is left behind, deliberately erased from the mind proving the point of being out of sight.
Life suddenly seem simpler, brighter and more manageable.
On the day of the departure the inevitable dread is creeping in and trying to assemble clouds above your ahead. You push it on the back of your mind determined to savor these final hours of freedom, overcoming the overwhelming desire to run further away screaming until the ghost of the concrete jungle is so far behind that any crazy thought of the return would be easily discarded as irrelevant.
But like a criminal you return to the place of the crime, defeated (for now) yet already plotting another escape that would tear another ----- chaining you to this prison wall.
Coming back feels like a squeeze into a narrow tunnel. Your whole being starts to panic. Every step is a trap pulling you inside this giant mechanism that feasts on flesh and blood of humans that constructed it to their own demise. Virtual vampire that hunts quietly, creeping through dimly lit streets, hiding in the corners, ready to ambush another innocent soul that haven't yet learned to play the Big City game, harboring residual illusions, still mesmerized by vastness and carefully crafted neon presentation, proud of its flashy facade that covered very little to even notice the hungry monster inside it all.
Being back in the game means plunging yourself into the wilderness of human existence locked into the concrete maze trying to solve the riddle that should ultimately get you out of here. At least that's the dream.
Crossing the threshold you take a deep breath, close eyes and immerse yourself in the ink black waters.
Hopefully, the air will suffice, till the next break.