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You have long  yearned for it.

The sweat on your back, the neon lights disturbing the smoke-filled room like sharp edged razors.


Our lungs are smoke, our feet stomping on the ground to the pulsating base like the heartbeat of a thousand stories, a thousand ideas bursting aflame in bright beams of neon and glitter.

We write the year 1983 and the Emerald City welcomes you.  

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