Obstreperous honks beyond bridge’s other side—they mute the desired splashes playing percussively around below’s city pool.
Doubts nab optimism under the query: Which is progress’s journey? From here to there or from there to here?
Pursuit of joyful contentment remains a hydra, with steel passages carrying concerns over impediments—only to have turned head reflect for a yearn to return.
Will is the only demonifuge to fear’s festering and every direction is forward if outlooks are open to new spins.
Whether put-staying or new-stepping, no certainty can say if chosen place is meant. Benefits exist in both honk-free and honks free, so try the thrills of one hill for a bit and if it turns tiresome, reroute right what was left. And, as well, always rent. ; )