Monday, 8:22am. I go out to the streets and it is evident how the pace of the city has awakened already: the streets are full with people in their work attires, suits and dresses, and parents walking their children to school. There are various people who wake up early to get intoxicated, a few nurses with their white attires sits in the step of their hospital entrance to smoke their cigarettes.

The city is waking up, some already at full pace, some buildings just opening their eyes with their particular sound of running metal blinds: rahh…. rahh…. rahh… most residents are able to accomplish the opening it with three pullings of the cord. People in the phone talking to other awaken people on the other side, about the frenetic rhythm of life: the groceries they need to do, the architecture project they are working on, what the boss said, the meeting of this afternoon, or talking to their loved ones with a smile on their face. The rhythm is constant, fast, contagious. It is hard to find frustrated faces, they just do what they have to do, preoccupied with making it on time, don’t arriving late, and fulfilling their commitments for this busy urban morning.