The colour of the herd
I felt not so much like I was in a city full of undertakers, but rather in a city that was in casual but widespread mourning. A sombre, solemn city where everyone dressed in black in recognition of some great death, but one of which visitors were unaware. Standing at an intersection, the light would change and a wall of dark would approach, like a funeral procession that had just disbanded and was now going about its daily business in all seriousness. Okay, to be … click below for more ↓