Grit-spawn. Behind the pretty faces and glowing masks is an unescapable and inevitable reality: that even lush neon lights cast shadows. If this place had a single ray of sunshine, the darkness that pervades this city would consume it like locusts. Here, vibrant light is always smothered until extinguished. Shadows peel out of the walls and ooze out of the floor to follow any diode of brilliance like bedbugs swarming a heat source. This whole town was built at that height of our humanity to serve as a refuge - as a last hope. But it has become an edifice to our own darkness. We've stowed away for now but, when we emerge again, what will we call ourselves as we emerge from this tomb?

D11R