Coral Hull: Prose: The City Of Detroit Is Inside Me: Horses That Plough The City

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: THE CITY OF DETROIT IS INSIDE ME
Horses That Plough The City

I don't care what anyone tries to tells me about Chicago, it's not the whole world. By being in the heart of it, it feels like the whole world and the real world, miles out miles in. I picked up a little pigeon on the way in. No one likes them. Luckily it was only stunned. It lay in my hand for a while, and then flew off with a big start and flutter. It was like I was releasing a giant grey rose into the world. 'Go and be warmed by the sun,' I said. I walked and walked into the great grey city of Chicago. The pigeon I had released flocked with the others, until the buildings appeared to be gently touched, by large grey roses fluttering over them. Now I'm nestled in Chicago's centre where the money is, where it's safe. All the Limos, yellow taxis and cars honk honking until you just want to say, 'Shut up! Shut the fuck up fuckface! Fuck you then!' You just wanted tell the whole city to shut up and wake up to itself. You wanted it to stop jumping down your throat with its boots on and ghetto blasters on high volume. The character of this city makes me fickle and prone to swinging moods. Sometimes I think that I can collapse it with one breath. At other times I am simply the city's smallest darkest thought, maggots. If you smile at someone, they look at you as if you are their potential killer. Everyone is looking for an excuse or a reason to scapegoat you, as their expression of the dying world. I am looking for a city to represent the inside of me. Chicago doesn't suit me. It's too compacted and neat, a hard little centre inhabited by the filthy rich that nothing can penetrate. It's an expensive chocolate that melts on the outside, but that will ultimately break your teeth. After two days I decided to move on to New York City. So I said goodbye to the great lakes that still had the power to send a chill up the spines of the crowds of skyscrapers. On the way out the graffiti covered walls separating 'us' from 'them' were lined with barbed wire and surveillance cameras. We know that they could kill us, as we leave the fortress centre on the fast freeways. Yet we will never get to understand the dark synthetic coats and beanies beyond our car windows, waiting in downward looking groups at the subway stations and bustops. We know the world is dying here in small pockets. But instead of healing its sickness or its injuries, we perpetuate the disease and allow it to grow out of control. We follow the histories of the rough and dangerous areas, from the safety and height of The Sears Tower, as they spring into life or die back down like stormy oceans. We all turn it in on each other in Chicago, by being loud mouthed and boisterous. We just do it by being overly rude in shops and elevators, and by filming the suicides from a street corner, or allowing our kids to watch the beggars we never give to. I may have stood on the top floor of the highest building in the world, that allowed me to see the problem overall. But I'm not from this city, so I don't know what to do. I watched the tired old draft horses, pulling the cartloads of tourists through the city centre. When at a standstill, they took the pressure off their aching legs like zoo flamingoes, shitting into their little bags and salivating down their fronts. No one seemed to think they were real. Their bleeding mouths perpetually working around the steel bits tearing at the gums. They were losing layers of skin beneath the rub and burn of harnesses and straps, one step off the knackery. One of the more timid horses, unable to get used to traffic and hard grey streets, was pulling its carriage sideways. Inside the toppling compartment was a drunken slut, and a old rich prick leaning out of the carriage. He was toasting Chicago with a polystyrene mug. The horse's terrible eye faded into the evening like a fire going out. Its aching back curved like a freeway exit. It was as if they were taking that horse straight to hell. My sympathy for the sad old horse with the aching legs went with them. My disgust travelled further still. We are told they are phasing out paper in this city and that plastic is far more economical. Chicago may very well be the first city in the world to phase out recycling and be proud of it. We all know the earth is dying. I have climbed as high as I can to look out over it. In order to try and make its borders containable so that I can conceive it. From up here inside The Sears Tower, all I can do is think a little bit more about it.

    

This website is part of my personal testimony that has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.

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