There's a road off the paths down that way. It goes clear onward. With the skybox pitched behind just right, you wouldn't know, but you could. With the lens maybe fifty yards offset, askew, you're walking… nice.
The moon's just a flag for billions, building up the advert. I'd hate to be that simple, yet here we are–a simple race. Are they really there for you? Are you worth being there for? The ego's needs are simple to satiate.
An arc, maybe just above the overpass. Remote crane shot, it implies the depth, and employs a sweep, inherent in time worn scenes. Everyone looks back, but you can now. Don't miss your chance to witness you, from the same crowd. Wouldn't we all love to see the oncoming peril that we all know is one inch right off the screen?
What loss, to only look upon the world from straight away? What cost, to solely enact a plan from meager visions' space? And lo, exhaust, the stress of choice so ill informed. Entrapped and stalwart, so let the scales recede and sulk away. In view, the light beckons from all sides. Renewed far-sight, ebb and flow now owned, designed.
One view. One choice. One flaw. Retcon your design. Renew your perch twelve feet away, and peer back.
When the bees and the wolves have been paid they might even be less interesting. They're bred to be so simple–ducks in a line. Buddy let me drop this conceit. I think we can both step off this line. To stand out is so simple from this line of sight.
Who knew, amongst these crowds, you're not alone? Who guessed, entwined in throngs, you're a beacon?
And now a glimpse. Maybe you just look good from the left. Self esteem boost: it's the gift you need to step out of bed. So stride tall in jeans. Everyone's going to be looking at your back. But you can now. Don't miss this chance to witness you, from the same crowd. Damn. Who knew? You're the one; you're a god, in this light.