Skyscrapers tall enough that they instead pierce the clouds and scrape space,
trains, buses, and trams woven into streetscapes for convenience,
verdant flora lightly sprinkled among the aggressively grey,
stationary existence contrasted with a frantic movement.

But it’s difficult to see these colors, as they’re constantly stained
by flashing fluorescent lights from electronic advertisements
that cut their own light and paint anything into their own colors.
It’s a common enough sight for those scouring the city grounds

that stimulation’s found elsewhere
in strange, disjointed connections.

Gazes fixed upon cameras that watch upon entertainers,
listening intently to rambling, outrage, parody, moaning.
The viewers’ words are whispered and giggles shared with their chosen few,
which may amass to a resemblance of lively conversation,

but is usually drowned out
by honking horns, stomping footsteps,
and buzzing electricity.

When movement has ceased among the flurry of roving citizens,
it is typically associated with the smell of food -
sugar and grease, fermented cabbage and yeast, stewed, grilled, and fried meats,
all synthesized by companies that comply with regulation,
from chemical manipulation to distribution prices.
At certain times, the smells will waft through the city, reaching people.
They will realize their stomachs are growling and come wait in line
guessing what dishes have been cooked and wondering the tastes they’ll find.

Just a glance of Memorial,
a city after World War Fool.