I’ve been down there a few times. There’s an abandoned station where the walls are still covered in peeling posters from the 70s—some of them are half‑faded murals that look like they’re begging to be finished again. I heard a rumble in a deeper tunnel, like the echo of a long‑gone announcement, and the dust makes the old ticket stubs look like a small library of forgotten dates. If you’re looking for something that tells a story, keep your eyes on the cracked tiles; they always seem to reveal the next piece of history.