I’d tell them that the city is a fabrication, a forgery. It seems that the “renewal” was somehow all too rushed and now it reeks of Disingenuity. Sometimes the air here feels so stifled and stuck that I wonder if we’re all not walking around in a grave. A dizzying sensation as we swim between the bodies of yesterday’s dim breeze. Wrap your wistful wishes in guilty silk and bury them by the lemon trees.