I woke up, and the street was the beginning of my existence. The busy urban sidewalk was too clean. There wasn’t a piece of blackened gum, trash, or even graffiti. I knew something was wrong. I felt it emanate from the polished marble buildings, sensed it from the people who looked like average city dwellers, and smelled it in the clean, fresh air. Every major city should have some element of filth, and I didn’t know why filth was important. Perhaps it was because my memory was fighting to res. . .