Music is pulsing, the bass filling the whole of my ear drum
I sit in a moving box, watching other box lights flash, select drivers deciding to merge in unison with the other, going on with life not even knowing it.
My eyes are a camera, the shutter speed too long for a good picture to appear, but here, the bulbs blend into one stream of lava, coursing their way down the intersection.
Although I am apart of that red and yellow River, I imagine being somewhere else.
A spectator, watching minds who think in boxes that cruise down the pavement.
Thinking uniquely is something I imagine I do, but just as the cars, there are other bulbs flashing their way down the intersection in the early hours of this morning.