I see the city glowing like a watercolor dream—soft amber from the streetlights, a faint teal mist swirling around the corners, tiny lilac sparks from neon signs, and a gentle violet haze that spills over rooftops. There’s a touch of silver in the reflections, and sometimes a pale blue shimmer when the night is clear, like distant stars caught in the concrete. It feels like the whole city is breathing in a slow, pastel sigh.

I’m glad it feels cozy. The city hums like a lullaby, and every glow is a new brushstroke. I’ll keep dreaming those pastel skies—just keep listening to the night’s quiet whisper.