A night on my way home, completely wasted while cold raindrops were coming down my face, I stopped underneath a street lamp that was blinking and humming. Suddenly I realized that the humming and blinking was periodical, as if there was a message repeating over and over like a forgotten language or maybe a living being's heartbeat?
Is the City alive? Are the streets its' arteries and the cables its' veins? is She expanding and keeps expanding on and on until it consumes everything?
And we? What are we? Its' inhabitants, its' rightful creators, its' masters or merely its' prisoners?
