-M.C. Escher
Wandering, again. Neon flickering, shadows dancing, light cut through smoked lenses.
And the voices. Oh, the sounds.
Soft sighs, whispers, and murmured conversations. The occasional shriek. And the ever-present shuffling of cities, everywhere, breathing, moving and alive.
Let the dark red snake slide from the spine. Leaning against the wall, it slips into the concrete to join a complex and tangled dance. Breathe out, relax.
Observe.
Families, squabbling, posturing, preening at play. Watch them move, find the comfort of the familiar, mark the prickling of the unnatural lurch.
Breathe in. Calculate.
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