The city was made of artificial stars that outlined racing streets and crooks that ran them as they were, in fact, the thieves of the night.

Every man and woman was the same; each paved in the same tired, equilibrium of exhaustion from wearing high-heels for over 8 hours or having the bitter scent of cigarettes on their business suit.

It was a city of paper and light; there was nothing official about it.

The air you breathed was toxic and rushing.

It’s a city that never slept and was inherently dangerous on its own.

Every human looking for purpose as they drink the poison put in their pill bottles to survive the chaotic flow at the cost of their dreams.

This is the city.

Where dreams fade into somber 9-5’s

Where hopeless romantics become helpless addicts

Where the night life becomes a whole life full of lies

This is the city

Where dreams come to die.