Here's the derelict. The ostensibly suffocating spaces we call home. And yet we return. We haven't embraced the streets. In its fleeting essence, how desirous is the chasm of being a flâneur. You are always trying to catch the sky peeping in and out from the canopy of tall structures. And failing, return back to the cars and glazes. We love watching the bright red backlights, the modern-day fireflies, on the ashen-black fast tracks, and yet, we dread that those are the only lights we would ever be chasing. Jetsam of the brains pouring out on saber shots of flash, on the thick glass sheets. 

Driving home, that's light.   

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"The Montgomery Chasm" - Jeremy Mann