Julio stared out at the vista before him.
A sea of green began at his toes, and extended far off, until it hit the brick wall of a distant building. Nothing stood between Julio and the building but the grass, a little too long, but not long enough to hide anything.
Julio breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air. For too long, he had been stuck in a grim, grimy city, nothing but car exhaust and concrete to fill his lungs. Now, for an hour or so, at least, he would have the grass, the sky, the dirt beneath him.
A whistle blew, and Julio ran. He kicked the ball, and suddenly people were everywhere, kicking and yelling and laughing, and Julio was delighted.