I walked familiar streets today, or at least I thought they were,
A city so familiar to this lonesome traveller
I ventured along traffic to the Harbour’s open arms,
Though we’ve been long acquainted she revealed more of her charm
Her stark iconic features adored by passersby,
Yet behind her fame lies hidden character awry
Buildings that survived the passages of time,
Tourists in blue jumpsuits walked along the city’s spine
Underneath the arch artists were perfecting craft,
Creators in the theatres nestled off the beaten path
I slowly walked alone towards opera’s home,
The words of fellow writers etched into the cobblestone
A golden street performer hovered in mid-air,
Pedestrians in haste paused for a second just to stare
The city’s leaves whispered secrets in my ear,
Too beautiful for ignorant or busy folks to hear
“Show not what has been done, but what can be. How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths.”
― Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose
