Life as a Rat

Life as a Rat Yes, every city is a labyrinthine cage woven from streets seen from celestial heights, but also – from the silken threads of your habits: The paths you follow, or avoid, the cafes where your presence lingers like ghosts, the markets you cross on your mythical journey home, to work, to dance under the spell of Friday night's embrace, and the restaurants where you might have savored delights, if fate hadn't sealed their doors. Oh, yes. A dozen winding roads and fifteen hundred faceless extras would be enough to stage your entire cursed life on a stage – and yet you yearn for a million souls to feel painfully alone? Ten thousand destinations to pretend you're trapped? Five hundred thousand square kilometers to hide in towers that kiss the sky, far from the fortieth floor – Ah, yes. A Universe, to remind you: it exists, just beyond the door. And so, in the labyrinth of city lights, where the moon whispers secrets to cobblestone alleys, you wander, a solitary specter, through the mist of your own existence, weaving dreams from the shadows cast by neon ghosts and ancient bricks. Each step, an unspoken symphony of forgotten memories and future hopes, a dance with the unseen, a waltz with the infinite. For in this mystical labyrinth, where time is but a fleeting illusion, and space is an endless canvas of possibilities, you are both prisoner and poet, caught in the web of your own creation, yet always creating verses from the stardust of your soul. Oh, to be a rat in this cosmic playground, to navigate the ethereal threads of destiny and desire, to find solace in the solitude of a crowded universe, and to discover, in the silence between heartbeats, the profound truth that you are never truly alone.