The City looks like a jewel box, shrouded in a mystery only night can afford it.
Floating streams of sparkling jewels, red one way, and white the other. Jewels that twinkle and move, those that encrust entire buildings, and the sky in hues of sapphire, amethyst, and ruby. The sky lightens, and the lustre fades; and as the sparkling stops, the falsely embellished concrete is revealed. My wonderland fades away. The jewel box is closed.
My window always tells a magic story, but there will be magic only when I choose to see it.
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