By Manasvi Mukherjee
The brightness of the city had long overshadowed the grey towers made of concrete, which awed anyone that looked at them. Illuminating the skyline were high-rise buildings decorated with lights. Life may have seemed boisterous at first, but in reality it was merely a ruse; people lived life with great purpose, however down below in the forgotten ruins that the city encompassed lay an entirely different world.
It’s important to note that I was never supposed to find that world.
For the longest of times, I lost myself in the instant life of the city, one filled with fast paced action and endless opportunities. Interactions with people, be it through business or any other means, took place in offices adorned with walls of glass that overlooked breathtaking views. However, every now and then, I would remember the quiet books of the city, the ones that weren’t flooded with people and sound, and I would leave the office to visit them. These quiet places were my source of comfort whenever I was stressed seeking to have a break from my busy office life.
Late at night wandering through the city, I found an entrance that felt a little too familiar.
At the outset, I believed it was an ordinary dilapidated and rusting service door hidden within the back of a derelict structure. It was nondescript - assuming of course there was no intention to spot it - as had been the case with the e But a few details about it I.
By Manasvi Mukherjee
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