Have you heard, dear wanderer? The streets murmur tales of yore, where pigeons were kings and bench seats held more secrets than the city archives.
From the depths of alleyways, the disembodied voices of public speakers from the 1900s call out, "Invest in the future of yesterday!" an ironic hymn to the uninvested present.
Enter here for a deeper resonance. Or not. Such decisions mattered once.
"The ledger says profit, the soul says less," murmurs an accountant from behind the spectral walls of a once-bustling bank, their quill scratching in the void.
The whispers echo through the brick and mortar maze, carrying the scent of nostalgia and unfulfilled promises. "Join the queue to nowhere," said one, "it leads to something or nothing in equal measure."
Read more here, if you dare.