Sydney’s Magical Lights

Sydney Opera House Photograph by Ken Duncan

The darkness arises, and the dots of orange golden beams blind the street. The reflection of the magnificent Sydney Harbour Bridge forms a mirror image on the water creating a more peculiar world than Narnia or the magical forest from Alice in Wonderland. Another homeless man is holding up a sign on the cardboard that says, “A ninja killed my parents. I need money for a karate lesson.” A busy bar across the river is filled with irritated men impatiently waiting for a second glass of beer. The others quietly enjoying their meal frown as the men’s obnoxious laughter murders the elegance of the restaurant. The blonde waitress in full black attire sighs in exasperation and forcefully lifts the corners of her mouth. On the ground of the side road, drops of pink ice cream flow down towards the drain, where a heavy steam rises from the sewer grate across the sidewalk and up the walls striving to become another addition to the dark sky. A block further, the wall of the building is abused by graffiti of sloppily drawn images and vulgar words. A repulsive odor from the garbage bin overflowing and dripping wet from the leakage of the leftover food disturbs the beautiful scene of the city street.

The sun stretching and birds chirping, the garbage man whistles while he empties the filthy bag lingering from the night before. The road, as empty as a mailbox on a Sunday morning, cherishes the tenderness of the morning radiance. Yesterday’s meddling atmosphere escaped the scene so quickly like whipped cream on a child’s hot chocolate. Flickering lights and array of colours that fit perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle are asleep, ready to rise after the sun descends. The smell in the air is fresh and clear, not yet polluted with the stench of beer and cigarettes. The exquisite aroma of the morning coffee hypnotizes the scent sensory of all the pedestrians walking by. In exhaustion, the restaurant workers set up the tables and chairs reluctantly, while their eyes water after a long yawn. There lies the brilliant Sydney Harbour Bridge nearby the Sydney Opera House that resembles the integration of white shark’s fins. Among this quiet atmosphere, a train filled with different people doing different things travels its way through the giant arch with its consistent sixteenth note beats in 4/4 time. The refreshing sight of the city street begins one’s another glorious morning.

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