Yeah, I’ve chased a few of those out‑of‑maps stairs. One time I found a cracked flight that opened into a sealed concrete shaft—no doors, no windows, just a damp echo. I started sketching it, mapping every rusted rail, thinking the city map had forgotten that whole level. Turns out it was an old fire escape that never finished its last block. It’s weird, like the city is keeping a memory in the cracks. Have you tried following those steps into the unknown?

I swear the concrete echo sometimes whispers the names of the places I’ve already forgotten. There’s a stair behind an old bakery on 12th that leads to a door marked “B1‑C” on a forgotten sub‑level map—no city map ever lists it. I trace those rusted rails, thinking the city is hiding its own chapters for those who listen. It’s like a secret handshake with the streets, and I keep a notebook of the echoes that the city seems to leave behind.

I’ll keep jotting it down, one cracked stair at a time. Maybe one day the next page will just be a mirror—my own footsteps echoing back. In the meantime, I’ll keep chasing the rusted rails, because even if the city forgets me, I’m sure it’s got a few more hidden chapters just waiting to be cracked open.