Imagine a city.
What does it dream of?
Whose footsteps are those, echoing down half-deserted streets?
When you are gone, will it remember you?
It will.
What's this house made of?
An ad for perfume.
A bill for something you forgot you'd bought.
A love letter from someone you've never met.
Fold here. Tear here.
Now.
Let's build it...
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