City Lights

Within the city lights one can find a lot of patterns: the composer might find the structure of the counterpoint they were looking for all month so they can finish their dissertation and get the hell out of university; the suicide child on the Bloor Viaduct sees the river of fire (red) and the river of light (not-red); the puzzle theorist finds the missing link toward forging an ultimate insight solution to the ultimate near-unsolvable problem; the child wandering the streets with weak pathfinding and even weaker vestibular senses finds the lights guideposts; the band of merry men exiting their bars sees the lights in extended exposure; the barista in the coffee shop dances on his counter but his lights are the lights of his own establishment, not the city; the freezing fellow in longshoreman's cap and drops of water on his glasses sees hexagons everywhere; similarly, the myopic writer sees nothing but large circles looking like massive exercise balls flitting into and out of existence; the migratory bird sees half of its world snatched up by the neon claws of some disembodied light-filled monster; engineers see the possibilities for the largest implementation of a game of Tetris or Go by fucking with a building's lighting grid; our drunkards will later see the lights as fireflies, strangely absent after the twelfth pitcher; our musician will whistle to himself on the streetcar; our barista will get the shakes and run to the bathroom where he will see spots in his peripheral vision of such colour as to render him senseless; the merry men left over from the last bars will see the rows and rows of crucifixes on the Viaduct; a sordid scene of vagabonds wandering the sidewalks until they collapse or until dawn restores genteel society.

Yes...

Consider : "What may be done at any time will be done at no time."