The windshield wipers,

unable to keep up

with the onslaught of rain,

conduct the evening’s nocturne,

making the street

seem so soft.

The lights,

they bleed, dissolve,

delicately struggle to keep the night alive

through the threat of approaching dreams.

But they persist,

twinkling like slight touches

on piano keys.

Each flat note an

intentional drip of the rain.

Filmy logos flash like traffic lights,

except they all feel like

green.

Go, quickly now.

And yet I don’t.

I step out of my car,

leave the door wide open.

The streetlights cheer and brighten

as I walk into

a watercolour dream.

these words by Ivana Velickovic were inspired by the work of Lin Bao Ling