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The city whispers through its walls and eavesdrops in its corridors, and it's noisier in my head than the underground at rush hour. Demons offer a strange menu for dinner, thoughts draw tattoos on my skin, and even music sometimes scratches more painfully than silence. Sleep seems necessary, but it stubbornly refuses to come - either it has lost its key, or it is afraid to enter. And dawn is already waiting at the window, and only the curtains know that tonight has once again been longer than it should have been.