New York is a feverish colossus, a sleepless leviathan that pulses with an untamed, electric hunger. Taxis slash through the asphalt like golden predators, while tourists, drunk on neon and illusions, carve the city’s flesh with the swift incision of their credit cards. Here, space has devoured time—an insatiable beast swallowing seconds, minutes, lifetimes—while steel arteries cough up the ghostly breath of engines and the smoldering embers of weary minds.

New York is a cathedral of despair, where hope flickers like a dying filament in the endless night.