I see empty places and lonely cracked roads
I hear big cranes and builders banging and bashing into build new buildings
I smell old dust that rushes through my nose
I touch the air that rushes through my five fingers
I can see and hear the water streams that calmly plot through the city
I slowly walk past mums work the “Breakfree”
on Cashel street
and get the sense of my mum.
Christchurch is my home for me.