Behind the buildings: the sunset, rendered bright and exotic by the many putrid toxins in the air.

It is so cold that an unwritten law exists:

Play not the basketball while fully inflated, or thou shallst forfeit a finger or two, they being such brittle little twigs.

Everything so endearingly ramshackle. Under construction. Work in progress. What's the point in rushing?

The House of Illusions. 6 minutes of pure pants-soiling terror.

Oh but it wasn't so hilarious once inside, was it now, Muugi?