The night is dark, the headlights bright. No stars to be seen. Headlights blur into streaks of orange and yellow, into the rumble of engines moving closer and farther away. Halos of haze ebb around orange orb lamps, the lamps splashing the shadows of trees onto the walls of grey apartment canyons. People wander beneath the lamps, alongside the canyon walls, through the layers upon layers of neon signs. They move down sidewalks and streets, varying degrees of intoxication guiding their steps. We pass them by, squeezing between taxis and motorcycles, passing the dozens of chicken and beer restaurants still full of patrons, patrons spilling out the open windows and standing outside sharing words over cigarettes. At the park a speaker whispers into the night, falling ever so gently on the ears of the night walkers. Haze beds down in the trees, nuzzling the branches ever so gently. On we walk, out of the park, down the street, dodging the speeding cars running red lights and back to our apartment, our apartment with the hum of the air conditioner, the murmuring ajamas and the occasional yowl from fighting cats.