Under the blue light of a young moon the breeze stirs up dust and dried flower petals from the stone street. This is the way that the city breaths. Moments before dawn a rogue church bell clangs in the distance. The neighbours are packing their rusty pickup truck with fruit and vegetables before hauling them to market. The sky begins to turn pink and the birds begin to sing. Traffic pulses to the rhythm of the lights and pedestrians weave their way through the stopped cars. Impatient horns announce the coming of a new day. The bus to work is more than routine, it is meditation. The city breaths and we synchronize.