Spirit-Kite

The traffic pulsed. Pushing forcefully through asphalt and cobblestone arteries; ebbing and flowing with the vitality of man's spatial will. Animated steel purred and growled, as the metallic pack pursued disparate goals. The combustion river flowed around shallow stony fingers. Perched on one of these islands a boy teased the winds. Sable hair bobbed to a rhythm, but not the terrestrial pulse of the motorized sea surrounding him. The dark skin of the celestially favored moved with the skies. String coiled around his fingers as tugged at the artificial butterfly only three or four feet from his form. The canvas butterfly like a creature caught by the tail tried desperately to escape the boys control, twisting and flaying with audible hissing. He teased the kite, as it expressed to him an ethereal sea. The spirit tides spoke desperately, as the metal embrace of traffic promised death. Will the Heavens touch an Indonesian heart? Will he fight divine movement or join it?