Cody Brock

Perception

Trees, grass, birds. The faint rumble in the distance. Smells of fresh cut grass waft in with the morning fog. The railroad crossing lights are illuminated, a bright red pulsation overpowers the orange ombre of the rising sun. A modern symphony of car horns thunders through to the park, the sound waves dancing on the wind playfully, without malice. People lost in their thoughts of the day and days past waiting in an endless march. Locked, trapped by their metal kingdom, or is it their prison? Diseased by their phones, worries, fears and commitments. The line of cars waits, blind to the simple beauty of nature's morning tradition.