The suited man and an inky abyss

vision of a resilient metropolis

I was not a participant, but a silent watcher. Visions played before my eyes, pausing just long enough for me to grasp their depictions. The horizon stretched out, creating a dim shadow over the city, with its edges smudged and trembling.

And the horizon provided a glow over the metropolis I observed over. The city, with its towering skyscrapers and intricate architecture, seemed to shimmer in contrast with the horizon, a city pulsing with light and life.

Yet, slicing through its heart was a mighty river, a testament to the chaos that had once consumed the city. Where destruction had reigned, nature was reclaiming its territory. Life sprouted along the riverbanks, and boats glided effortlessly on its waters.

This brief scene caught my mind. A city that appeared as though it had been through an apocalypse, but the spirit of its people remained unbroken.

The boats flowed gracefully and held people who were laughing and playing music. I could feel what they were feeling, yet I remained apart from them.

And then, in merely a moment, it was gone.

---

From a vantage point high above, I found myself overlooking the streets of the city, where they twisted and turned, leading my gaze deeper and deeper into the city.

But then I found myself walking on these twisting cobblestone streets. I could hear the distant hum of music and laughter drawing me further into the city. I went deeper in while following the cobblestone paths. The buildings shifted and changed. Their shapes began to melt and drip like fresh candle wax.

I found myself escaping the grasp of the melting city skyscrapers through an opening that led to the riverbank. The water was a dark brown...almost black like an inky abyss.

I looked up from the river and noticed the boats from before floating by, yet the music had stopped. The people had stopped. Their faces and their movements were frozen, but their eyes were locked onto mine.

---

I turned from the river.

I noticed a figure emerging from an abandoned building standing tall next to the river. The tall man dusted off his black suit as he approached me.

"You are not one of us," the man said, his voice deep and resonant. "You are not of this city, not of this river. You are merely a visitor." The man’s voice echoed from the now silent surroundings.

I asked: "who are you?"