further commuter musings- "i guess i'm something of an anachronism."
one of those mornings where you feel like every scattered moving person in the city is just an electron in vast circuitry; water flowing along the pattern of a mandala. it was seeing the drying concrete that did it, thinking about the theory of urban life that says you never really live in a place until it have you name on it. the philosophy of graphitti artists & vandals. couldn't shake off the clamor of decay--though tempered with the persistant grip of evolution. pavement stones are ripped up & replaced with brick or asphalt or concrete. entire streets are devoured, absorbed into the body gotham. cells rushing through the veins of this great beast. you can't own a city, even if you cluster & ganglion yourself until you rule it. & in time the monster will stumble & die, & ghosts will haunt its ruins, flicking through the shadows of its snaggle-toothed skyscrapers.