Everybody hates their own country

Everybody hates their own country,

until the fruits of culture start withering on their trees,

or until other travellers ask for advisory,

whether to visit their libraries.

Then suddenly they become a patriot,

emitting radiance,

abient to the preceding urgency to leave the radius,

and start advocating for their city’s paralyzing gradient.

In a foreign land, the travellers roam the museums, the mountains and the temples,

by doing so,

it temporarily breaks the perpetual cycle of mundanity,

to restore the capacity,

to love their cities lavishly.