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Gotham is harsh city. She is teeming with raw humanity, a humanity that contains a hard, tempered, vibrant soul that seems to be forever singing a sad blues song. She sings a song for the teenaged prostitute and the junkie looking for his next hit. She sings a song for the white collar worker struggling with a mortgage and the businessmen with their eyes on the stock market ticker. Gotham sees them all and welcomes them in with wide spread arm. Here, truly, are the huddled masses yearning to breathe free. They roam in her streets. They live and die in her streets. Many come and many leave, but all that have known her change.
She's nothing like her cousin, Metropolis, Metropolis with her art-deco curves and sunlight and false face. If Metropolis is the polished one, then Gotham is the real one. She lets her real colors shine through, good and bad. Metropolis is so scared of shadows that it has banished their very existents. Metropolis is the day where Gotham is the night.
Gotham is truthful about humanity. While she is a pretty at times, she is a pretty whore. She knows no pretentions and deals only in cold hard fact and understands the facts are that humanity is capable of great evil along with great kindness. She has known them both and embraces them both. For Gotham knows you cannot truly know one without the other. She sees no black and white. For her, there are only shades of grey. For her, there is both love and hate in the city square.