I had a dream in that city again. Inside the nebula of chaos. It is night. The bookshelves of lights on the streetscape throb; red, yellow, cyan, red. It feels like Amsterdam dipped in oil. A black bridge leaps across an equally blackened street. A subway entry to the bottom right. The towers lurking at the back lean effortlessly over the road. The buildings are mere shadows, blacker than the nightsky. Fickle, wet surfaces are scattered on the floor. From recent rain, I think.