it's nearly 11 at night and yet the sky is still just bright enough to see the outlines of the used to be white and wispy everchanging shapes. in the city the lights never seem to go out. cars headlights like the guide lines of an airport plane strip. both woshing by at unseeable speeds as you leave them behind. the man made atlas like spike thrust out of the ground
covered in glass with blinking red lights atop their points. made of a collage of light rooms and dark ones. the light ones holding ever working people in the city that seemingly never sleeps. eaching doing their job at their own accord in a highlighted room for the streets and highways to see. billboards and airplanes are always out and about, an entertaining sight to watch pass by. the smooth sound of tires on pavement as you look out window. you see the same route you take everytime you go home from the everworking city. always changing but always familiar. the bridges of steel and lined with lights. the highways for asphalt and concrete lined with street lights. white tiled tunnels lined with floursent blinding lights. smoke stacks and water towers. storage warehouses and hotels. murals and graffiti. it's nearly 11 o'clock at night and yet there is so much to watching in the city that never stops
