City of the Loveless

This is a city of the loveless, where people fornicate freely according to the principles of free love, but in reality, there is no mutual understanding nor communication---all that they partake in with each other is wild, abandoned sex.

I walk through this city, alone of course, and watch the debauchery that is underway. Hookers peddling their wares along the street corners, pimps strutting their stuff, and even those cutesy-looking couples are nothing more than a young kid acting punk-like with his arm around the itty-bitty waist of the waif-like girl, who wore shorts so tiny that they left nothing to the imagination even after revealing two long and rather pale thin legs.

Turning round the corner, I boarded the subway with the intention to go home, but found my way blocked by a throng of bloodlusted people---they have survived a day of gruelling work and have been worked up to the point that they were ready to fight and grapple with anything that seems to be annoying them even remotely. Staying clear from this mob, I gave a small sigh and turned back to the main street---I should be able to reach home eventually by walking, but I don't really like this city of the loveless.

I wonder to myself, where has all the love gone? Could it be that the city was always loveless? Or, upon application of Occam's Razor, I am the loveless one walking through a vibrant city, with my visions tainted by my inability to appreciate the love. It might be possible that the hookers and pimps I saw were just normal people doing their things, while the flirtatious couples that pass me by are more than just lustful juveniles wanting to do each other, and that throng of bloodlusted people might just be tired office workers who are glad to be going home finally.

I sit along the edge of the road, deep in thought.