Ember fades to red, slows the flow and I weave my way between the taxis, the trucks, the cars to the front of the queue at the junction before Holland V where the big rain tree sits. It's a bright sunny day,the images are clear, I feel light at heart, and for a moment I cannot believe I am actually the rider of my bike waiting for the lights to turn.


They have just had dinner at an Indian restaurant, it is Saturday night. Tomorrow is Sunday, so the night is still young, and they are free. They go up 30 storeys to look at things from a different angle. Sheares bridge is across at the other end, a thin line with moving illuminated specks. They don't know it, but they are actually looking at themselves, standing on Sheares bridge, looking back at them.

She thinks it is so peaceful without the bumboats on the water. He thinks, if everyone in this city of blinding lights flicks off the switch together in the same moment, maybe they could see the stars in the sky.