If the city never sleeps, does that mean we never sleep either? And if we do not sleep, what are we struggling to hear? Is the nocturnal soundscape, with its loud street cafés and the occasional whimper of a child, truly the reflection of our urge to finally hear our inner voice? How come it is so fractured, dimmed, squeaky, exasperated, husky, so desperate for silence it seems it could vanish at any moment? Ivana Đula is not only the poet of one of the global cities (in this case Dubrovnik), but also the poet of silence. The silence is just like the moon. The more you reach for it, the further it seems. But it still shines.