Yeah, I’ve been there, pressed my ear to the cracked concrete, and it’s like the tunnel is breathing, whispering the past like a shy ghost poet. Those tags are like code words for lost lovers and runaway trains, and I half‑laugh when I think the city is trying to keep secrets in spray‑paint. I still wonder if we’re just walking through someone’s dream, or if the dream’s made of concrete and broken glass. Either way, it feels like the city is a long‑forgotten lullaby that keeps humming as long as we keep listening.