This city belongs to ghosts, to murderers, to sleepwalkers. Where are you, in what bed, in what dream? - Marguerite Yourcenar
I felt as if I was the only person awake in a city of sleepwalkers. That's an illusion, of course. When you walk through a crowd of strangers it's next door to impossible not to imagine that they're all waxworks, but probably they're thinking just the same about you. - George Orwell