If you’ve ever been, you’re always guaranteed to leave Salt Blossom city saying it’s the most beautiful city in the world. Dangerous, fast and crazy- But the most beautiful place in the world.
There’s the sun- a bright red circle on the horizon, sizzling with the desert heat like oil in the huge pans of the food stalls lining the streets. The smell and heat of Chilli peppers that hang in garlands from their kiosks, the crisp thud of machete meeting watermelon skin- the crack as it peels apart, and the vender calls out to the street ‘fruit, fresh, fresh fruit!’
Salt blossom city quivers with night lights and motorbikes and cigarette ends, glowing through their own sweet sour smoke, straight through the day and straight through the night. It quivers and glows, quivers and glows, even to it’s very edges. But you don’t really want to go to it’s very edges. They bustle with a different sort of rush.
But if you do,
If you do walk all the way out of Central Court, and then wander, somehow, all the way to the Northsea District, you might find yourself on a street. A very empty street. Thin, hole in the wall shops cram themselves into the tiny space- but they’re all empty. The lights are all broken and the windows are all shut. There used to be good business here- but Centre Court’s better these days. Who still lives in NorthSea, anyway?
The street, if you keep walking down to the very end, may have another, tall building at it’s end. And it’s plain and simple and clean- no fading posters or advertisements plastered on its walls, no shop windows or flickering neon signs. If you walk too fast you might miss it- but that’d be a real shame. The light is always on in that house. A small, red lantern hangs dead centre over it’s wooden doors, and it glows ,persistently cheerful, against the empty street. Don’t knock. No one will answer. But someone’s always home.