My city is beautiful.
It has a unique charm, a certain color that you can find everywhere you go. There are strings of lights wrapped in trees and around windows, plants growing everywhere, art displayed in yards and streets and plazas, cozy gardens and coffeehouses put together from rusty, mismatched furniture.
Wooden houses and porch swings and nature all around.
Every house has a color, a personality.
My city is not a thing, it is a person. It lives.
It has a unique charm, a certain color that you can find everywhere you go. There are strings of lights wrapped in trees and around windows, plants growing everywhere, art displayed in yards and streets and plazas, cozy gardens and coffeehouses put together from rusty, mismatched furniture.
Wooden houses and porch swings and nature all around.
Every house has a color, a personality.
My city is not a thing, it is a person. It lives.
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