A swirl of smoke forms a halo in the night. It takes shape from a window, encircles the lamp posts, frantically strides the narrowest paved streets of the city to finally vanish on the horizon of the sky.

Infinite loops entwine with one another, inseparable in their nocturnal quest. Up on the roof, chimney poles watch the show, following the smoke’s barely  inaudible humming. Created from fire, evanescing in the air, destined to evaporate into small particles of dust, the smoke cherishes the few instants of liberty granted on this serene night.

The inhabitants never notice the smoke escaping their homes. Like a familiar melody, they enjoy the thin grey layers twirling in search for a way out, the crackling coming from the fire flames, and the unique scent of burnt wood spreading warmth in their hearts.