Night. East Village, New York City.
As the city moves furtively into shadows, buildings render themselves one by one in the cold glow of street lamps whose light burns brightly against the dark expanse of night: supernovas pushing against gravity and their inevitable collapse into themselves.
And we wait: unaware of the solemnity of the situation.
We wait under these man-made white dwarfs pushing our dreams to the skies beyond our grasps forever propelling ourselves forward while standing completely still.
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