Night in Aurora

The city of chrome and glass woke up when the sun surrendered its superiority over the sky, and a dark veil rose above the horizon. The futuristic chatterbox known as Aura has begun its evening mood dressing. As a magical being, she did this every night -turning blocked audacious images into endless shadows and shades. The moonlight shone clear and pale, as if it were the last spark of hope in this abyss of an industrial monster. Something unusual and attractive found me this evening. I felt a hellish longing and anxiety, so deep that it seemed to fill the whole air around me. Getting into the game with these emotions is my only goal. Walking down the street like a twilight wanderer, I was just one in a sea of people who ran to this cursed place to find their comforting shadow. On the bridge that towered over the lush ocean, I stopped to take a step to the edge of the abyssal paradise. The Aura lights were as flickering as the fireflies in the heart of the swamp. This hypnotic sight appealed to my soul, reminding me of lost hopes, dreams and losses. I was overwhelmed by an irresistible desire to penetrate through this halo of futuristic grandeur and see what lies behind this forced loneliness. Time slowed down as I descended the stairs that led to the Aura's underground world. There were streets of unexplored exoticism and emptiness. Silver walls chilled my skin, and futuristic buildings, like giant sculptures, separated heaven and earth, scattering the light of their neon lanterns on colorless boulevards. Ominous reflections in the windows distorted the image of my own face, making me unrecognizable even to myself. I became an observer, traveling through a huge field of mirrors. In the distance, on the surface of the metal streets, I heard a barely audible melody. From under the layer of sound-isolating glass structures, a ghostly echo, scattered by interference, penetrated. The refracted sounds evoked a bitter sweetness that my heart savored.