The Glass Orchestra

The blue hour exhales, pressing against the ribs of skyscrapers. A single taxi hums a low, golden note across the bridge's iron spine.

Steel cables shiver in the river wind, tuned by the ghosts of industrial sirens. Somewhere, a shutter clatters open— a sharp, rhythmic percussion of iron.

Light spills like spilled milk across the pavement's grey canvas, blurring the hard edges of the night into a soft, waking thrum.