In the city streets sensation was easy to come by and hard to make last. Easy givings were often misgivings to never hold again. The hard edges and the soft corners. The sad look in the eyes of people. The fear of walking alone at night. In the city, sensation was everywhere and yet nowhere together. It beat in the walls of the dance clubs and longed for in the hearts of the lonely.
Even something as simple as smoking a cigarette was some sort of feeling, and a man was standing outside an office building in the night, pulling and breathing out sensation. He kept to himself from the people around him and drew his arms together just the same. In the high of a Saturday night, people walked the sidewalks and crossed the street, cars buzzed past with the windows down blasting the latest song over the radio. Madonna was everywhere, holding the world by the throat. No matter where you went, the sensual sensation of her voice poured from the windows of homes and from the radios of passing cars and walking people.