Chiara, unlike its namesake, is obscure and has an intentional blur. In the wee hours of the morning the noise never dies. The city has too much yet too little to offer. How immemorable the city gets, your mind tends to wander when you brisk into the pathways. The sounds of howling for attention has become white noise and your sights are redundant. Chiara only shows its prominence when you want to see it, yet till then, all you have is a fog up ahead. Does it mean you had refused to see Chiara since? The day you accepted to face reality, you became overpowered by its blaring state of presence.

In the peripheral of your vision, you noticed the city is an amalgamation of its predecessors that took influence from the outer worlds beyond the land and seas. Upon looking up, you see a reminder of other things within your existing memories. A mosaic of your experiences lumped into a landscape, both the pleasant and unpleasant. You start questioning whether you could make a home out of Chiara. That’s when you start to get too comfortable in your own thoughts and seize all logic in hindsight.

Does it desensitise your sight, when the wails of the miserable ricochet off the tenements? Do you march on and feign ignorance because you can or because you have to? Why have you allowed yourself to experience to this extent? What you see from Chiara is what you enabled yourself to perceive. You remain where you are but before you realise what has happened, you have already missed the warning signs that Chiara had given you from the beginning and have sunken into the marsh.