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Description
Look around you.
Run your eyes over the dark river, deep in its canal. The swathes of light shine on it.

Look at the city towers, framing a dome which is your night-time vision. See the stadium, a showy network of ever-changing, colored lights. Observe that, and think, as you always have, how it's hulking form looks like a pin-cushion nestled into the foot of the soaring skyscrapers.

Now walk. Pass bicycle racks, neon signs in your periphery as you pace your city's streets. Take a right-angled turn at every intersection you meet. Left, right. Ascend the incline on Lonsdale, descend the decline on Exhibition. This city is big enough to lose yourself in, small enough to memorize. You are pacman. Traverse the grid.

This is your home. This is the place you grew up in. You will never know another place as you know this one; you will never love another the same, even if you don't feel that way now.

You know this city. You know its gardens, courtyards, watering holes. You know its people and where they live. You know its many faces and the places in which to find those that are familiar. Feel: the breath of your city on your face, its noise reverberating in the cavity of your chest. Open your eyes and see, take it in – it is real.

You are not small. You are significant. You have, running in your lifeblood, an ever-growing ribbon of memories born in this place. Think of your home and you will know your roots again, so that you can remind yourself of the great tree that grows above them.

Description
Look around you.
Run your eyes over the dark river, deep in its canal. The swathes of light shine on it.

Look at the city towers, framing a dome which is your night-time vision. See the stadium, a showy network of ever-changing, colored lights. Observe that, and think, as you always have, how it's hulking form looks like a pin-cushion nestled into the foot of the soaring skyscrapers.

Now walk. Pass bicycle racks, neon signs in your periphery as you pace your city's streets. Take a right-angled turn at every intersection you meet. Left, right. Ascend the incline on Lonsdale, descend the decline on Exhibition. This city is big enough to lose yourself in, small enough to memorize. You are pacman. Traverse the grid.

This is your home. This is the place you grew up in. You will never know another place as you know this one; you will never love another the same, even if you don't feel that way now.

You know this city. You know its gardens, courtyards, watering holes. You know its people and where they live. You know its many faces and the places in which to find those that are familiar. Feel: the breath of your city on your face, its noise reverberating in the cavity of your chest. Open your eyes and see, take it in – it is real.

You are not small. You are significant. You have, running in your lifeblood, an ever-growing ribbon of memories born in this place. Think of your home and you will know your roots again, so that you can remind yourself of the great tree that grows above them.