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A Bustling City

A bustling city at night; a bustling city during the day. Nothing ever changed no matter what time it was. The faint lingering image of the deceased running through the streets was everywhere; you can hear their faint laughter, as if enjoying themselves at a huge festival, not aware they are truly dead. The air is damp and fairly cold-though no one seemed to mind as the streets were filled with sweet, satisfying scents that seemed to make everyone smile. There were many things to touch and see; colourful fruits, pastries and food trucks were all around; making your mouth water uncontrollably. The nighttime was like a million shooting stars; all passing one another with grace to see something new. And though shooting stars fade; more will always come.

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