Old buildings in new cities are like meeting someone new.

People are scary.

Especially when it comes to meeting someone new.

It's like standing in front of an ancient stone giant of a building on a busy street.

You feel it's presence is so aplomb, like an edging thunderstorm of clouds piling upon itself

it cannot be ignored.

But you may notice - to your left, it's right

to your right, it's left

that people pass by, walking, jogging, sauntering

a brown haired girl wistfully glances upward at the structure while mainting her whispy composure.

How many people pass by you every day?

How many people have noticed you?

A lot to be sure, and maybe everyone presently passing has already spoken with you this week.

The question now is how often, and who? Who enters your gate, walks in through the blue crackled  door?

You sense this building is important, but it is hard to gauge what for.

You are not beautiful for beauty's sake, I'm sure of it.

Walking in, the afternoon is passed by traveling book shelfs, smelling rooms, touching the armrests of old chairs.

Time has caught up with you and you must now leave this place.

You may think to yourself,

I know your smells, I know your form

but I still, do not know you. Your story. Your words.

Old buildings in new cities are like meeting someone new.