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Here, the sky is yellow and orange-green, the clouds sickly with reflected light. It's clearly night time, but nothing's truly dark, even outside of the lightcasts of streetlamps and windows and advertisements; there's an ambient glow that ensures the local dinginess is visible even in spots of relative shadow. And this even though it's sprinkling, the air filled with fine, cold droplets.
The buildings are tall and dense. Even aside from the light rain it's not possible to see very far in any direction: to the left and right, there are walls, one of them smellier than the other and of rusted metal. To the front and back, open space and direct light, though only a sliver off it. Sounds come from those directions, rumbles and odd whooshes, people talking. Down, grimy pavement and puddles; up, enclosed bridges spanning between the buildings and that thick, wrong-colored cloud cover. And drops of rain in your eyes, if you're not under one of the bridges.