Stray cats masquerading in chiaroscuro paintings.   There's a hole so deep in the pavement, I wonder how many layers are beneath it.      Suddenly demons of antiquity illuminate the construction machines.   They pierce my pockets for change.      Relics still in fashion; our second hand jackets.   But the warehouses are abandoned under the towering expansion.   And as they grow so too shadows, a playground for the vagrants.      Three kings are parading, and I for one am waiting.   For the ashes and straw that remain there.   I lost everything in your hypnotic stare.