this city of glass

I wander through this city of glass, looking for clues. I wonder what happened to me. Some days I cannot tell if I am free on the streets of New York or if I am still locked in my dream. There is darkness all around. There is beauty. Everything is as clear as glass.

Things are no longer what they once were. I used to know someone, I used to know where to go. I am lost in this city. There is no longer any way to escape. We are living through the last times, we are living in the country of last things. There are clues everywhere. But is there still a mystery to go with them?

There is a man in the park who sells bronze replicas of New York City landmarks. The Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, the Statue of Liberty. He tells me of a friend he once had who vanished in the flash of an explosion. No remains were found. The man who sells the statues is the only one who knows his friend's story. He tells me that he has written it all down, but I know that this is not true.