It is a place of contrasts. Large. Vast.
Imagine a fold of individuality, stacked, squared, boxed, shuffled, linked, spun, and woven into a delicate hive.
Where once, perhaps, there was simplicity, lisps of light and dark organic matter stretched in ubiquitous harmony across a field of shapes and rolling hillsides of ancient foundations, there is now marvelous complexity. It is deep and daunting, holding promises of whimpering forces steady in their shrouds of layered dreams and haunting the eclipsed spaces of gaps between the fringes of what is real and what is not.
The city is exactly what it is. An organism of human invention, alive in ways that a brain could barely percieve, hanging between intellegence and function. As it ebbs and beats it’s spirit along the fringes of our perceptions, stories leak from the rubbing gashes, rips, tears, and swollen breaks that would otherwise wash gently upon organic smoothness.
It is complexity that drives further complexity.
It is the city, itself, woven tighter and tighter, with ambient froths of power and life blending into coils of ever tighter loops and whorls, spinning and churning into something greater, that breeds upon itself. And one might wonder, etched in the rough and trailing fringes of these bleeding memes, where and when we might begin to feel the interaction of it all.