During my last broken night, in the early hours of the morning, when the streets were quiet, I had the most extraordinary experience. A man’s voice, calling out at full blast. It was both primal and feral. It wasn’t a wolf’s call or distress. It was a communication and put my hairs on end. In a matter of seconds, I heard a reply, quieter because it seemed more distance. Not the same, but alike. Like a signal. It wasn’t a dream. In these big cities, there must be many sub cultures, not just the drunks and the beggars. An underworld of hidden community. Good or evil who knows, but it had me thinking of those post apocalyptic films, a world beyond the every day.