even in the wealthiest enclave, there can still be found undisturbed riffs of a more romantic era, when secret lovenotes were passed through ornate iron gates, and devotion scratches on mossy walls hid behind a curtain of ivy... then the long quiet walks through lush overgrown gardens...
well before over-indulged children roar their maseratis through the wide leafy boulevards and wander lonely through their immaculate mansions in a loveless virtual ennui...
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