Life is not a railway: you always can change the path.
When just the mortar stands, when just the wind whispers on corners and just the sun witnesses the nothingness, that time when silence is the only inhabitant on Earth, then, still then, will the echoes of our beating hearts make the air tremble.
When the song of life ends, when the artist stops painting breaths, when just the sand does the music, then, we will be eternal. We will be one, we will be all. And all will be us. And the ones who hated us, will love us. And the ones who ignored us, will know us. There is no life after death but death after life. And it will mean knowledge or the darkest of the nights. But even then, we will be one. The city. A city of ashes.