cityscape - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Beyond the French doors of the oak-paneled suite, soft city lights glowed through a pair of billowing taffeta curtains. Melody’s petite hands parted the silk fabric. Phosphorus moonlight spilled into the dimly lit room. Behind the doors’ glass insets, a majestic view of the skyline appeared with startling beauty. There wasn’t a cloud in the star-speckled sky. Rows of towering skyscrapers stretched above her, their windows alight from within. A half-moon hovered at the fringes of the luminous cityscape, where the red blinking lights of distance radio towers twinkling in the night. An industrial-based smog of pollution coated the whole area, acting as a milky filter. The fog softened the hard lines of buildings, and diffused the orange glow of sodium-vapor street lamps.
The cityscape was unapologetically urban. There were no trees or city planted blooms, just monoliths of concrete soaring out of the sidewalk in an exact grid pattern. At night it was beautiful in it's own way, so many lights. By day you relied on the sky to let you know that it wasn't a monochromatic world; just one in which the people were too busy for art. For over a generation progress had meant the teaching of specific skill sets to the children of the metropolis and art had been the first casualty, then dance, then music and television. In this city we only work and eat, there is no time to sweep fall leaves or plant spring flowers, hardly even enough to notice the blue above. With no more designers our clothing and cars never change, there are five styles of everything in white through grey. You pick the best one for you and use it until it falls apart before returning it for a replacement. In this way our city outperforms those in the region.
The city is a living machine spread over once green land like a microchip grossly enlarged. The roads run in their predictable grid pattern and the lights of the stores, restaurants and places of vice shine neon into the night. Everything is out there from homely organic granola to girls that will make you pray in entirely new ways. That's what the metropolis is, the ultimate choice in how you want to live your life.
The city spread below me, and the world suddenly felt so wide and free that I wanted to jump. Lights glittered everywhere just liked stars dropping to the earth, huge and small buildings collided in a mixture of shadow and geometry, tiny vehicles rushing along tangled lines of streets creating twisting threads of light - they all intertwined together in a magnificent mess of dream.
A breathtaking, marvellous, almost frightened dream that made me feel like some fake, unlucky living thing.
The cityscape was a jumble of shapes, like a child had cast blocks down randomly and then swept them so close together they touched. There were rectangles, domes and mini-castles. There were spires, weather vanes and satellite dishes. Between the dwellings and businesses the roads were so narrow that they frequently became blocked by trucks brining in wares. These juggernauts were designed for highways and the metropolis, not ancient walled cities with bridges designed for the horse and cart. Between the chaotic buildings ran a network of paths wide enough for two skinny people to pass. We scurried down them like ants; always busy, always chasing the next opportunity to scrape a living from the dust. When sunset came I would always be on the flat roof of our store, on my back, waiting for the sky to burn. There is something satisfying about seeing out your day in the fresh air, under God's heaven, feeling like the king of my world and utterly insignificant in the same moment.
I lifted my head to see out the window; what I saw, took my breath away. The ground below me was alive with lights, like someone had taken a handful of glitter and thrown it as far as the eye could see. It was too dark to make out individual buildings, but the lights were enough for me. I sighed, amazed at the view laid out before me.
The city of Wardshaven spread in front of them, white buildings rising from the wide spaces of green treetops, under a shimmer of sun-reflecting aircars above.
The city was scrubbed every nightfall by the machines, wilting plants replaced and litter removed. In that way the cityscape stayed new, like an architects plan, only with the citizens really living inside. There were electric trams, buses and the monorail - hardly any personal vehicles at all. There were days I would look cloud-ward just to see if I could catch a glimpse of the "architect" - then I'd feel foolish and stifle a grin. It was the kind of place that nothing bad ever happened...
The cityscape from the top of the cathedral was a mess, roads looping and weaving with less organisation than a natural river. Once it had been a town, but its proximity to the river and easy land connections made it a hub of trade. Unlike the newer cities it grew organically, roads twisting, houses of all shapes and sizes. There were no blocks, no grid pattern, you either knew the place or carried a GPS.