“There’s a place where it’s always light.
Bright, everywhere.  No place dark.
Bright like a mist, like something falling,
always, every second.  All the colours of it.
Towers you can’t see the top of,
and the light falling.  Down below they
pile up bars.  Bars and strip clubs and discos.
Stacked up like shoe boxes, one on top
of the other.  And no matter how far
you worm your way in, no matter how many
stairs you climb, how many elevators you ride,
no matter how small a room you may
finally get to, the light still finds you.
It’s a light that blows in under the door,
like powder. Fine, so fine.  Blows in
under your eyelids, if you find a way to
get to sleep.  But you don’t want to
sleep there.  Not in Shinjuku…”

IDORU  -william gibson