I keep watch from above, crawling across the rooftops, taking note, remembering faces and events, waiting.
No one in the city looks up, only down, avoiding stares or focusing on themselves. I am well hidden, even against the colourful tiling.
I follow the crime, mostly, all kinds, the financial districts and alleyways take up much of my time. And the police as they avoid the same places or turn a blind eye.
I take pictures, make reports, file them with the authorities and newspapers. Not a lot happens.
You think I should go down there. I am not that kind.
No one in the city looks up, only down, avoiding stares or focusing on themselves. I am well hidden, even against the colourful tiling.
I follow the crime, mostly, all kinds, the financial districts and alleyways take up much of my time. And the police as they avoid the same places or turn a blind eye.
I take pictures, make reports, file them with the authorities and newspapers. Not a lot happens.
You think I should go down there. I am not that kind.
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
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