I walk these quite streets. It's early in the morning, and as many have lost their jobs or their generalized motivation, everything's empty. The streets are grey and intimidating to anyone, even to someone who has been living here for the past 32 years. The Capitol isn't beautiful. I thought it was, once, before all the glitter mask of a guaranteed paradise slipped leaving only the fortress. There is less business, less new magazines, less parties. Some people avoid going out, because what's the point of dressing really well if the day is just going to be wasted like so many others?

I make my way through the last quarter as people pass by and wave. No one knew then how to react to those last Games, and no one talks about it now. No one complains, even though they are all dying to scream they live in a glorious prison.

And I arrive at the Circle of the City. It's busy, as always. The sun is reflected in the grey walls. A giant hologram in the center gives the news of the morning.

There are no news about the Capitol. We aren't productive, we aren't loved. But still most of the people here are just glad they left the city alone and left us to keep living in our sophisticated houses with all the physical confort there is to imagine.

I decide to return home, even if it is just as exciting as continuing my walk.