"If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

I have found another terrace. 

Another city-line studded with yellow lights 

from the highway beyond, and 

another song.  

Another place to call home,
if only 
for a while, 

to spend solitary nights 

asking myself 

questions, some deep, some not,

and finding vague answers

or random epiphanies

and making decisions, 

some difficult, 

some wrong.

I didn’t think I would like this place- but I'm beginning to think it’s not so bad. I could grow into it, or it'll grow into me. If you really want to know how you feel about a city, get on one of its terraces and watch the lights go out of its countless windows, one by one, like a million candles blown out in little boxes. And if you can love the city by night, you can probably tolerate it by day.