On the crowded morning streets, the building in the middle of the block draws throngs of people toward it like the drain of a sink. Masses of people swirl and mix in predictable patterns as they are siphoned off the street, away from the sun, and the air, and the possibilities that each day offers unapologetically; the days of their lives and their dreams, disappearing from their minds just as their bodies vanish into the building's mouth of steel and glass.

The sun is still struggling to see over the demesne of concrete and steel. The sky can be measured against the tall walls blocking the sun's view. The powder blue filters down softly like a mist. It caresses and consoles these jagged appendages of concrete and steel rooted firmly to the earth; as they gorge themselves on the tallow of the days toil.

The massive geometry of city streets organizes the sun's deafening rays into a mathematical cadence. Streams of light burn down the cross streets as the avenues are intersected by intermittent shadows. Later in the day, they will trade places and the streets will hide in the shadows that are like a tumultuous wake of cool blue whispers. Stepping across intersections from the safety of these long dusky silhouettes, the warmth and light can knock an unsuspecting person to the ground.

A few blocks down a side street, a building steps back from the curb as if out of respect; an acknowledgement of some sort of long forgotten etiquette now lost in the annals of urban history. Silent and forgotten, this nameless edifice now waits, embarrassed. It now uncomfortably wears two odious blinders that nudge belligerently toward the curb like two angry bookends.

With any luck, there will be rain by the end of the day. Though most of the water will run off without ever finding its way to the expectant earth, it's falling is an atonement.