The ghosts of the metropolis cross the street in the middle of the day. Some carry purses. Others carry briefcases. The rest simply carry their burdens upon their backs.
They cross the street. Some in silence. Others with noise and talk and sound. Some walk alone. Others travel in friendly groups.
After so many years, they have all become good friends. They know each other’s names. They know each other’s dreams.
Yet, the ghosts of the metropolis do not know that they are all dead. They continue on their way, never questioning any of it all.
The ghosts of the metropolis cross the street in the middle of the day.
And it is always day.