Ere the sun rises.
There I was, observing the daily hum drum of the busy streets of Colombo, appreciating the welcoming sound of heavy traffic early in the morning.
My thoughts wandered back to an age when picturesque kurumba trees were the only sky scrapers blocking the view of the deep blue and fishermen ventured out to battle the sea gods for another meal, with silence dominating the environment bar the occasional call of the wild bird and beast.
And back again I crashed into reality by the call of a wild bus, honking its way forward carrying men and women venturing out to battle the gods of industry for another meal.
I barely realised how close I was to the calm of the ocean, surrounded by sky scrapers of the concrete jungle; the marvels of the modern man.