Smokes and metals bolt the doves and roses to darkness, picket fences blackened itself to camouflage the murky waters poisoned by neglect; you become the stream—clogged in the pipes by the debris and shellings of a proclaimed golden age. This jail of a city is a trap, and as the streets point to nowhere but to its rising for as decay calls, the reckoning blooms. Witness the raw spectacle through a behind-the-scenes look at how The Spectrum strips the costumes of the system’s rotting scaffolds an

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