The main street remained alone. Just me, the night and the last cigarette. I took the lighter and fired up the need.

The city sleeps, the buildings sleeps, the dreams does not sleep. Wandering among eyes, looking across shoulders, seeking between echoes that fly like a recall. I hesitate, but I stick my eyes right into the horizon. I’m there, shouting for the right moment to escape into the void.

I walk two blocks away, several dogs walk away, the sirens of the night announce a dead soul leaving this world. I take a deep smoke, while the police takes some guys into their patrol. They have blood in the hands, in the eyes, in their souls.

I close my raincoat and keep walking across the anxiety. My face is naked, I’m naked. No mask is tearing my bones. A beggar extends his hand but I only can give him my condolences. He lose his freedom.

And I get there. The pub is open and the people, dancing in the street, living, crying, smiling the last moments of the city. I’m waiting to drink my last blood…