Where to my friend?

Walking through the long corridor of railway tracks and high ceilings with the audience watching with dark, cold, stony eyes was nothing out of the ordinary. Yet this place where animals, creatures of bizarre fantasies created from an ancient gothic mind’s disturbed definitions seemed to be teeming with life; macabre and melodramatic. Every single eye was centered on his existence. He lived in a city where the norm was to be ignored, existence was ghostly. People walked on without a care, not even a glance at the myriad mobs meandering their individual insanities through the asylum of life. A sign ahead of him read “Death is just another stage of life”. He smiled wryly at its incoherent irony. The crowds swirled around him like a ballet performance by Sufi saints invoking the divine through their concentric circles. Without a moment’s pause the merry dance pulsed to a rhythm devoid of timing and irrespective of the limitations of space.