From the din and chaos a shadow grew, a voice softly carrying substance, echoing, reflecting from the weathered walls of graffiti. Illegible, like some incantation in an unknown language, the words mixed and amplified in the silence. A deafening roar spun from the industrial air conditioners, catching up and scattering abandoned newspaper across the cement in little spirals around the shuffling feet making their way up the alley in a silent progression towards the darkness. They were barely visible in the weak rays of yellow sodium filtering down from the security lights high above, moving slowly, deliberately, towards complete darkness.

Light consumes darkness, a shadow is born

Burden comes of age, the mystery shared.

Resembling monks of ancient history their hooded cloaks shrouded the sunken faces, hiding behind darkness in single file, silently passing by the grimy dumpsters and greasy backdoors to the ritzy restaurants on the other side of the towering buildings above them, boasting glamorous fashions and expensive décor. Like the rest of the streets in this neighborhood, the majority of stores catered to high society flagrant types, hot coffee steaming from stainless steel espresso machines, glinting on jewelry and fancy clothing, reflected in silvered glass and shined chrome. Colorful paintings dotted the interior of the cafes and patisseries with bourgeois characters, retelling ancient stories of love, passion and valor with a tainted, biased view that conveniently left the lower classes behind the carved and gilded frame, hungry masses hidden in shadow little more than forgotten. Barefoot and cloaked in rags, the figures melted into the shadows and descended into an unseen doorway, casually entering a silent black world below the constantly rumbling motion.

Within the blackness shone a blue light, flickering and contrasting against the crumbling old brick tunnel walls, casting eerie shadows from the shuffling figures into the blackness. Each held a pair of crystals between rough palms, carefully rubbing them together in a slow rhythm to produce the bluish glow, the quiet clanking echoing off of the cramped corridor, the light amplified in the complete darkness to barely illuminate the ground in front of each character. In a silent migration they moved together deeper into the labyrinth of passageways in the old city, built centuries before and submerged in the sinking foundation of cracked cement and mud. Forgotten by many, remembered by few, the passages were barely a myth told by the remaining storytellers of the old ways, still resisting mechanization and the new economy. Always muttering about freedom from taxes, a lower gap between rich and poor nations, cast off as soapbox warriors and doomsday prophets.

The riddle forgotten, a question remains

Another remembered, old friendship repaired.

The air grew dank and stale, smelling of moldy insulation and rusted pipes and leaking a steady drip and trickle from the side of the worn pathway, wearing rivulets in the mortar between bricks deep as a finger down the steadily descending steps. The blue light masked detail, allowing few features of the travelers to be discerned. There were no other inhabitants of this gloomy residence to be seen, the group passing unnoticed and invisible through the claustrophobic chamber, their only witness the rats scurrying ahead into cracks in the crumbling brick.