There are cities that grow upon cities, piling them up and spreading them out; amoeba-like false feet reaching down the cold run corridors of transit Markets grow up through the cracks - some vast and hardy tumors of commerce while others are little card table kiosks kicked into corners The view becomes uniform & undifferentiated - like an ocean, sprawling to infinity in all directions; more complex than the sea but equal in its dispiriting sameness In some room or another, in that vast repository of rooms, everything that can happen is happening -- loving, killing, praying, torturing, healing, and so on Rooms are the city's cells; the buildings - its organs; the neighborhoods - its systems; and we are but molecules in the city's scheme.
Poor little rodent, run up a door.
Chattering and chattering, frantic, he swore.
Babel Fish Rodentia translated his words:
“It’s not bad enough, the cats and the birds,
hectic humans and their frantic pace,
always running about like they’re in a race.
Stuck on this peg for nigh half a day.
‘A break in the traffic’, I fervently pray.
Pfff! Bipedal humans with their gigantic feet
designed to crush chipmunks right in the street.”