Ugliness can make you cry

In Witney, my walk to town and back was across a field, through kissing gates, over two babbling rivers with ducks and swans, past pretty Cotswold walls and trees. Every thing was aesthetically pleasing, perfectly maintained. Perhaps too perfect? I wished the council would spend money on the arts instead of trimming the effin foliage.

But every time I walked that way, I tried to appreciate it. Told myself to enjoy it. Take something from it. Of course, it was impossible. You get desensitised. Even to prettiness.

Today, I walked to town and back via a shortcut someone told me about which avoided the steep hill. I passed boarded-up shops, aggressive graffiti, dirty stone buildings, dreary terraces, broken fences. I told myself  to ignore it. That it didn't matter. To think about other things.

But I couldn't. My heart was sinking. My the time I got home, I felt proper gloomy. I had a little cry.

So I'm left wondering:

Has Witney made me a complete and utter snob?

Will I get desensitised to ugliness too?

And is prettiness in your walk to town and back important anyway?

Discuss.