New York's lights confused with stars. "Bright," says the young
girl. If only they could have their wish, they would be forever
in a daze removed of a daily routine. It seems, the thing that
makes them happy is the soul of another. Misunderstood by the
rest who desire materialistic object or fame. Those who want
nothing more than to be above the rest are only to be snickered
upon. Signatures developed in such a fashion that no two are
alike. Respect becomes the main consumption of the city.
The little girl stares into the New York horizon, the only one she
knows. But yet she smiles, looking into her grandfathers eyes.
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