As night fell, the traffic was endless.
If daytime is for necessary work to survive, then only at night can one be true to oneself. This is the common ailment of modern urbanites.
In the quiet hover car, the lights turned off, only the colorful billboards passing by outside shone into the car, reflecting the tired, closed eyes, a kaleidoscope of changes.
A small block of floating projection lit up in the hand-held personal terminal, a line of small text slowly moved, displaying the song name and other information.
The hazy melody, like soda pop, sounded in the headphones, neither exciting nor dull, like a perfectly measured massage, easing the listener's stress, gradually detaching them from a day of high-intensity work status, entering a relatively soft and relaxed environment.
