When I first read Kassabova’s short story collection I found myself growing quite fond of a piece titled “I Want to Be a Tourist”. In this piece Kassabova compares her life to a city which gave me the idea decided to write a piece in where I describe my own life as a city. As the days dragged on it became harder and harder for me to resist the urge to write this piece but I finally gave in once I had a free slot of time. I certainly hope that you are ready for a lot of metaphors and I also hope that you thoroughly enjoy the piece you are about to read!
If my life were a city it would quiet and quaint, hiding behind its sister metropolis, not because it fears being seen but because it would simply rather not be. Not many other large cities understand why, but if they knew what had happened to the town all those years ago then they would take caution to do the same.
You see, my life used to be a much larger city, in fact it used to be one of the largest cities in the country because of its preoccupation with the development of the arts. It was vibrant and full of people, kind people that did everything they could for the good of their city. They decided it would be best for the happiness of their fellow residences to encourage everyone to open their hearts and try to follow their passions, regardless of where it took them. As a result, the city became home to thousands of the most successful restaurants, stadiums, art galleries and production companies in the world which attracted thousands of new residences. This was the downfall of the city of my life.
The new residences began to abuse the town, ignoring the comradery that the rest of the town had spent so many years creating. They burned down libraries, broke into recording studios and even killed the city’s most notable artists. Eventually, the mayor had grown weary of its residences but decided that he would give them one last chance and offered them an olive branch. Unfortunately, the residences chose to cut it down for decoration instead.
The mayor lost hope and shut down the town entirely, kicking out the town’s current residences and locking himself away in the town hall.
Through tears rage, the city’s mayor refused help from the neighbouring cities and lashed out at anyone that dared to approach him. Soon enough, this drove away anyone who could have possibly helped him and made the city the most un-inhabitable city in all of England. This was when the vultures decided to attack.
The vultures tore at the weakest points of the city, taking it apart bit by bit until there was nothing left, leaving the mayor no choice but to rebuild the city on his own. After months of rebuilding the residences came back to the town, asking for a place to stay. The mayor welcomed the original towns folk back with open arms providing them with new homes, schools, hospitals and even restaurants. In the few months following the towns folk decided to help fund and open several development programs that would ensure a final positive growth within the town.
The influx of vacant jobs in the town attracted new comers once again, this time however, the mayor had developed an intricate plan on how he would choose the people that were good enough to live in the town.
The city now proudly stands on its own two feet, proving that the mayor’s plan was a complete success. The mayor had learned a valuable lesson: his town can accept new comers but it much accept the right new comers in order to continue developing and growing itself.
This is the truth behind the pickiness of the townsfolk. This is why, no matter the circumstances, the town continues to remain hidden, only noticeable to those who deserve it.