Rock City had a great atmosphere. The city's inhabitants came and went as if unaffected by the outside world. A street vender pushed a wooden cart filled with all kinds of trinkets. Some naked kids with snot hanging from their noses bought two sweet crepes before running off with their elephants swinging.
Rock City's name made it sound like some western city in the wilderness, but it wasn't. In reality, it was like spring year-round in Rock City, and the climate was warm and humid. Each land nurtured its own people. The girls of Rock City were raised well by Rock City's warm climate.
"How pale," a fatty with a mohawk remarked as he passed. "Like fresh onions! White with a hint of green, beautiful."
This fatty's voice was loud, and he yelled without caring if people heard him. Many people on the street heard him, but they all seemed to recognize him. They lowered their heads and shuffled off as if they hadn't seen anything.