Third group

There´s a place where it´s always light. Bright, everywhere. No place dark. Bright like a mist, like something falling, always, every second. All the colors of it. Towers you can´t see the top of, and the light falling. Down below, they pile up bars. Bars and strip clubs discos. Stacked up like shoe boxes, one of top of the other. And no matter how far you worm you way in, no matter how many stairs you climb, how many elevators you ride, no matter how small a room you finally get to, the light still finds you. It´s a light that blows in under the door, like powder. Fine, so fine. Blows in under your eyelids, if you find a way to get to sleep. But you donīt want to sleep there. Not in Shinjuku. Do you?

"Idoru" - William Gibson