From the journal of Mme Celia H Faucons, Epicurean explorer, 30 January, 1898: I had only just grasped the concept of Parabola, thanks to my bohemian contacts, when I stumbled upon another city of dreams: Arbor. Also known as the City of Roses, upon arrival it became evident how it received its title. The city is a splendid flowering paradise, the air a perfumed melange of growing things--of its famed roses, bright clementines, woody ivy and crisp, fresh leaves. Upon crossing its threshold a curious powder-like substance known as attar began developing behind my eyelashes. Even more curiously, this rouge is used as currency. It took some time, but I was able to make my way into the farther district to learn more about the city from several of its inhabitants, marked by their heavily red rimmed eyes. We shared cups of absinthe, crimson and apparently spiced with attar itself. True to dreams, it felt as though I had simultaneously been there for a few moments and for a lifetime, when I heard the melodic chime of bells. My time was up and I was ushered to the gate of the flowered city by the courteous Huzzite guards. I awoke in my darkened London lodging, the perfume of the city still lingering in my senses. Sadly, I was never able to find my way back, and it would be an untruth if I said I did not long to behold once more the shining ruby jewel of the Neath.
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