Traffic Lights.

Sometimes rays of enlightenment gently caress the palpable surfaces of our mental acuity, leaving behind in their wake the conception of an idea, at its very inception. Mine revolved around these machined self-effacing traffic controllers many of us barely take note of as we dutifully trudge on in our mundane lives. These pieces of machinery which emit different lights accordingly play such vital roles in maneuvering the traffic, occasionally even drawing violent fulminations from spinning tires as they screech to a standstill, leaving traces of burnt brake and rubber in the air. They face implacable rush hours undauntedly. They allow pedestrians to stride across busy roads. They are so essential that without, the days as we know them would descend into traffic anarchy. Yet there are those who remain intransigent to the meaning behind the lights, the gracious green for please-carry-on-have-a-nice-day, the mellow yellow for slow-down-you-accelerating-boobs and the radiant red for stop-unless-you-have-a-death-wish-or-good-insurance-policy.

They are so hauntingly beautiful because even in the absence of human and cars, they continue on in their sedentary tasks, switching eternally from green to yellow and then to red, hinting at the phantasmic existence of humanity. [Well, of course we have not adopted energy-saving traffic lights which switch off temporarily when the streets are deserted]