Downtown on the Lower East Side at 3am where the pain + rage + raw hope in the face of everything is laid bare: the machinery shows through here: all pretense and illusion and camouflage stripped away to expose the massive gears turning, the glide and pump of huge, ancient, oiled cylinders, the hum and gasp of steam releasing. And the glow… hot metal around the dynamic core, while human animals jump and dodge the teeth and cogs in an intricate, stylized dance. The pressure builds, and shows behind grit-tooth smiles and peeled + frantic eyeballs. The whole city is wired and ready to blow.

While Satan and God stand side by side, slapping shoulders at a job well done, though God looks slightly nervous, and a little guilty.

And New York writhes like a dog in heat, raises her ass, arches her back, curls her tail out of the way and begs god to come mount her to create a new son with lightning bolt eyes + flaming hair and a laugh that sounds like buildings falling and ambulance sirens.

Yeah, or something like that…