One day on my way to the office train took a wrong turn in a dark tunnel. Being very early in the morning, I was the only passenger on board. Dark tunnels kept on flashing yellow light bulbs before my eyes for a few minutes. It was then, when I saw SCHIRKOA. A complete city made of weird blocks and enigmatic citizens. All of them were wearing bags. All of them looked like they were going to office. Imagine a whole city lit with neon lights and surrounded by baghead prostitutes. It was suffocatingly brilliant. That morning I lost my diary and all versions of my story in that tunnel.
I quit my job. And I quit that city. And the country.
Sometimes these bagheads come in my dreams. They might murder me if I don’t stop stalking the city of Schirkoa.