White Styrofoam armies march out onto every street and come together in neat columns, cupping brown heat, melting through the slush of the city. Fragrant coils of energy seep through the veins of the machines. Puffs of warmth. Steam tunnels breathe in silence under the city. Shadowed skies above swirl the surface in dark ripples. Distilled to this moment. Who would have thought darkness to be so good?
Some cups have lipstick stains on them. Some read the New York Times. Some cups are thrust loudly into the edges of another’s life, lusting after the clink of coins. Some are just plain tired and they cannot keep up with the pace on the streets. Some slink away at every intersection, but more always come. Once upon a time a stranger walked down these very streets wondering how all knew to be just this way.
– Revti Gupta