the glittering city
It's all the fun of the necrotic center of the mass, if I were a secondary bacterial invader.
It's one of the big milk bottles filled with smelly fruity jelly-goo substrate and overflowing with fruit flies in the Drosophila lab, if the flies mutinied and tipped the bottle over and it broke, and they continued multiplying.
It's the scene of a fifteen car pile-up that resulted in only superficial injuries, if the victims were too lazy to get their cars towed and seek medical attention and instead opened up food stands and novelty shops and just ran them out of their wrecked cars and stayed forever and called it home.
It's Gotham City without batman and the joker.
It's countless little cities all smushed together until the structure as a whole has no distinguishable character.
It's everything you could ever want times fifteen, within walking distance.
It's 40% people asking for directions and 59% people who don't know the answer.
It's the faint headache that reminds you that you're breathing car exhaust even though you can no longer smell it.
It's a beautiful constellation of artificial light that spells out the subliminal message, "why would anyone ever leave Manhattan?"
It's one of the big milk bottles filled with smelly fruity jelly-goo substrate and overflowing with fruit flies in the Drosophila lab, if the flies mutinied and tipped the bottle over and it broke, and they continued multiplying.
It's the scene of a fifteen car pile-up that resulted in only superficial injuries, if the victims were too lazy to get their cars towed and seek medical attention and instead opened up food stands and novelty shops and just ran them out of their wrecked cars and stayed forever and called it home.
It's Gotham City without batman and the joker.
It's countless little cities all smushed together until the structure as a whole has no distinguishable character.
It's everything you could ever want times fifteen, within walking distance.
It's 40% people asking for directions and 59% people who don't know the answer.
It's the faint headache that reminds you that you're breathing car exhaust even though you can no longer smell it.
It's a beautiful constellation of artificial light that spells out the subliminal message, "why would anyone ever leave Manhattan?"