It is a space of many souls. It is the only one who understands them. One of artists, writers, banks combined. One bringing those who don’t belong, together. One exploding day and night. From a distance you don’t see them, many think of them as buildings, just a mountain of cement.


The secret of this place is inside. It has an ability to carry out certain people. It inspires the painter to paint and the designer to design and picks a single person to of a crowd of hungry competition and takes them to the top and puts them on a pedestal for the rest. It is the city


The passion that made them start will never die, without it they are a person of nothing, supported but without a heart. Think, think, think one whispers on the streets. They create.


When it is stuck and too blocked to create creation, when their life is pushed down by every door, then it is then they look up at the city. When there is nothing left to continue in this mind. One who believed in the rest. One who inspires itself and doesn't stop growing. One whose purpose is to create again and again.