oh, my beloved, my dear. whatever shall we do. bound to the tower, the tower, oh the tower. with it's windows small and high, and rooms with climate control. well, we shall have maps. and we shall have strange instruments to do our bidding.
The city is as good as any structure at spawning strange places between
regular ones. There's an ever-present guinding force, a prevalent purpose to the human-made structures - and then, in their shadow, something else. A lot can be found [out] by going where there's no reason to go.