The animals walk in a forest of stone each alone they undulate slowly covered in an artificial skin, looking within the sounds of the street whisper in distant remove as everyone continues to move.
Glancing out and about the wind flows through protein strands their spheres are shattered by the tugging wisps.
This scene is constantly happening in hundreds of city zones it means everything to these drones.
The chanting sky breathes a slow rhythm into the quickening pace in this foreign place.
Green and dynamic this grey forest grows and purple space winks at the shiny, rushing cars.
In each proud building the animal thrives where everyone hides their lives and eyes with steel blue shields, protecting the soft flesh inside.
In the early morning tide screaming yellow insects puncture the steam rising like an Arabian dancing woman an eerie reminder of the dream.
Their day proceeds and the writhing dream recedes so do they, into the maternal stone.
But an X-Ray view, looking through sees a medieval cathedral, screaming stone saints solidly stand below with gargoyles glaring above the souls of those who retired still dreaming.
When their day ends, and work is through the slow beasts return home to an unknowing faceless place their final resting stone.