A cool and crisp night in the city is illuminated by its skyscrapers, its vast columns of light. Their radiance reveals a vibrant metropolis with a enlivened population, exploring the mammoth urban jungle.
On the ground level street lights kindle the sidewalks and neon signs flash brightly in the midnight hour, advertising ports of call for the night tide navigators.
None of this happens in silence. The twilight hours bear witness to the urbanite symphony. A chorus of traffic, running engines and exclaiming horns assisted by a throng of human voices. Whispering, shouting, hollering, singing, cajoling, shrieking, banter, spouting, yammering.
In the background Jazz is improvised, running through the streets and back alleys, dashing and darting in the air following its own undetermined path. Blues laments echo hauntingly in the dust. Popular music bounces around the thoroughfare while soul embraces the city and funk rocks the polis in a stone groove.
The night is alive with people moving from place to place looking for good times in this urban sprawl. Some get lucky and some don’t. And this dance will be repeated every night.
All the while, the skyscrapers remain stoic, watching, observing the night-time activity from the urban heavens, illuminating the night – loving city with unflinching effort.