Tourist in my favorite city

I swing my long, messy ponytail back and forth.

Hastily pull out my phone as swiftly as the wind rushes by.

The gusty wind caresses my pink, flushed cheeks.

Flushed from trekking up the famous steep hills.

Press, press, press, one gentle touch of a finger is all it takes.

I add to my overflowing collection of familiar clouds playing hide-and-seek in the hazy fog.

I am a tourist in my favorite city, none other than my own city.