I moved into the city.
An approximate 75% spike in urbanization from my previous residence. It was a large town, or very small city, whichever, but it wasn't a metropolis by any means. Just a lot of suburban-ism and other carcinogenic terminologies.
Dreary, but nice. Like emo-girls who are not in it for the fashion, but rather the chance to know something sad.
Homely is another word i could use, but i wouldn't mean it in reference to my actual home. The town itself was homely; a perfectly adequate place that never made you feel too bad, or too great. Just "fine." Complacent is another word that comes to mind.
I used to live on a lake. Now i live on a river.
I used to live in the woods. Now i live in the concretes.
I miss the birds. They don't hang around here so much, what with the no trees and all. I didn't realize i was missing them until i saw one this morning. Before it flew over me, i was enjoying my breakfast smoke by the river, listening to the city. Absorbing some of it's energy, trying to assimilate into the concrete.
But then i saw the bird. It flew over me, a harbinger of melancholy nostalgia, carrying in it's tiny talons a veil of disparity that enveloped me. And then it was gone, up and over my building.
That was the moment i realized i missed the birds, the trees, the small woodland creatures, and my body of water.
That was the moment, right when the bird passed over me, that i realized how silent a city can be. Nothing stirred, no cars, no people. Even the river resorted to the muted lappings of a cat at it's saucer, and the wind hushed itself into a corner.
The real question, i suppose, is whether i miss the Nature or the nature of Nature.