"Streets that follow like a tedious argument..."

Don't ask me why, but T.S. Eliot's Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock came to mind when I was taking this picture. These lines, actually:

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”