I suppose there were clouds here once, twisting their slow dance as they merged and faded. I suppose there was sky too; sometimes blue, sometimes grey, but always changing. Maybe there was even something soft, green, swaying gently underfoot as thousands of tiny tendrils of grass reached upwards, shifting and changing to follow the light and the warmth.

Now, we have just right angles of neon colours, random adjectives and characters to capture our dreams and desires. We have refractions and reflections of blue, hinting at what we might see, if only we would stop to look up. Underfoot is unforgiving, unbending, immovable, immutable. This city is something tired and exciting all at the same time, and I don’t know whether to smile and dance or just turn away at the sight and non-sight of it all.