A rainy night, on my way home, completely wasted both physically and mentally, while cold drops of water 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 this city alive? Are the streets its' arteries and the cables its' veins and the city is just expanding for kilometers 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?

This is a diary of the Balkans' Metropolis, a city of 6 million souls, a love-hate affair between Her and us.

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