I think the city sketched us into the grayness of its buildings today, buildings and buildings that ran through our minds as we hopped in between taxis, like ghosts of green lights, flailing our joy like whips cast around us, roping in those that were near us, and settling like raindrops into their parched skins. It was now that was so near us, so close as if we were freezing time to watch the trail of stardust a meteor leaves as it travels across the sky. Time frozen in a ball, to dance as if were green and good and young, like old trees still are when they are old and weathered, but still flower every young year, every spring time that dances through the mist of our wanderings, keeping us the color of gray gray buildings watching us manage our questions of each other so aptly.