Consumed cigarettes littered the tainted streets worn down by countless footsteps of people with a destination, and those without. On the visage of all who populated this infamous district, was a colorful blend of debauchery and some degree of self-worth. Buildings were tinged with the lingering smell of defiled innocence, of cruelty unwitnessed by many. Said buildings are as corrupted as the bodies that reside within them, every inch accounted for by sin.

The sorrowful tangerine of a detested sunrise radiates the same cold ever-present in this place. Occasionally, someone might notice a lone star shining courageously amongst the drapes of night, and perhaps fancy the day when the light would die, much like the flame of a burnt-out candle. Yet the light has already gone out long ago; extinguished subduedly into the dirty remnants. A sly invitation to the gates of Kingdom Come comes by in the form of hungry crows scavenging for scraps; ironically the only sign of life.