Stalked by the muse, Socrates pauses, transported. Silver-blue ripples, a sea of knowledge, laps at his feet. Staring into realms untraveled, his mind's eye wanders. Feather-light thoughts drift by. Divine shadows, channeled, ooze through his veins.
Intoxicated visionaries proclaim that the dreamer is their link to the heavens.
Sublimate Wind scatters the whispering echo of twilight encounters. The humming underground swallows the city's fading light. Beneath the purring electric stairs, concrete slabs and frozen smiles reflect neon suns. Hidden in the shadow of multitiered steel constructions, there is an alcove sheltered by grey borders and parallel lines. Quicksilver droplets form condensation, liquified.