The city is watery with rain, the city breaks up into the blue-green windows of the cafe, nasty wet sidewalks and dark alleys, where indecency is teeming, the city of unwell. It is better to live in the forest. Crawl along the fragrant foliage, run between the trees, relax on mossy fallen trunks, listen to a sonorous echo from shots on bottles, and then, sitting in the lotus pose, is silence.