He cuts through the heart and soul of the city, gliding effortlessly around the urban jungle. He weaves in and out of traffic, at once part of it, at once apart from it. He observes in motion, taking in the vibrant sights and sounds, witnessing a dynamic city life as it courses through the streets, but never lingers longer than his welcome stay. The city appears aloof, yet it is he who has accepted the city for what it is. Trains, benches, subways, bridges, cars, even the dreaded authorities--they are but mere entities that he accepts as part of the landscape. He breathes the city through his skin. He caresses the pavements like a familiar lover, and leaps through obstacles as if they exist in different spatial dimensions. He knows every nook and cranny, every creek and crevice. The city resists, but to no avail. He is an antiauthoritarian, a quicksilver, a free spirit, a loner, a transcendental traveller. He is the postmodern poet on wheels.
I am inspired. But considering my dexterity, I would most probably elicit some headlines that reads:
Boy,29, dies trying blading stunts at HDB void deck
