I’m gonna reach up into those clouds and put a tight screw on it’s dripping faucet, stupid rain sounds like bullets, thought Clive on the 50th floor.

What idiot designed this drainage, every little drizzle turns my flat into a muddy puddle, one of these days they will find a makeshift drain in the court yard, thought Oliver on the ground floor.

Concrete trees everywhere, linked branches and cramped roots no room for growth, life’s ambiance has really changed, thought Christopher the geriatric beggar opposite the apartment blocks. 

three line tales week 32, weird perspective which is maybe a bit Escher
Copyright Steven Wei

Written for Sonya’s TLT week thirty-two

7 thoughts on “Ambiance

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