The confetti settles on the floor, a ghost of the celebration. The glasses are empty. In the quiet that follows the final firework, a new year begins not with a bang, but with a breath held in the cold. We scroll through digital archives of a year ago, a time when we believed we would be fine. Now, there is only the aftertaste of wine and a city asleep under a blanket of smog. We chased a faste...
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