⠀⠠⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⣶⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡆ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇ ⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢦⣤⣴⣾⡿⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⣷⣤⣤⣼⣿⢰⣄⠀⠀⣠⡆⠀⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠀⠉⠉⠁⡇     ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣤⣇ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠻⠿⣿⠇ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧ ⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼ ⢀⣴⣿⠿⠛⠿⣿⠧⢄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼ ⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⢻ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸ ⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⡠⠁ ⠀⠹⣷⡀⢀⡤⠖⠉⣀⠔⠁ ⠀⢀⣿⣿⢁⡤⠖⠉ ⠀⠧⢼⣿

⢠⠊⣉⠒⠤⢀⡀          ⡐⢁⠴⢜⢄  ⡎⢸  ⠉⠐⠢⢌⠑⢄    ⡸  ⡆    ⠣⠱⡀  ⡇⢸        ⣀⠗  ⠉⠉⠁  ⠙⠢⠤⡀⢃⢱  ⡇⠘⣄⢀⠔⠉                    ⠈⠁⠘⡄  ⢇    ⠁                              ⠘⡄  ⢸            ⢀⣀⣀⡀        ⢀⣀⣀⡀  ⢣  ⡸        ⢴⣾⡿⠿⠽⠇        ⠘⠛⠛⠛  ⠈⢄ ⠰⡁              ⢠⠒⠢⡀⠈⠒⠊  ❤ ⡠⢄  ⡘  ⠱⣀          ⢀⠜    ⠇        ⢀⠔⠁  ⡏      ⠑⠤⢄⣀⠔⠁    ⡜        ⠊⠁  ⢀⠜

“Let us go then, you and I,  When the evening is spread out against the sky  Like a patient etherized upon a table;  Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,  The muttering retreats  Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels  And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:  Streets that follow like a tedious argument  Of insidious intent  To lead you to an overwhelming question ...  Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”  Let us go and make our visit.”   – Altiera Cunningham, Cyberpunk 2077