Description
The old year is dead. I stand looking down at the city, unable to shed a single tear for its passing. Fairy lights have been strung in the Norfolk pines on Wellington’s Oriental Parade. They wink and shine, merging with neon lights and headlights. The night sky is overwhelmed. I can’t see the stars. Clinging to my balcony rail in the chilly midnight air, I wish away this loudness of light.
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