There's a city, a cardboard cutout, a ghost made brick. It's graveyard is filled with plague victims. It spurs like an island in the middle of mid-asian steppe. It lures people with no past, and even less future giving respite to refugees from land ravaged by war and injustice. Will Anton Mróvkolef find there a new home? Or will he be sucked dry, until only soulless husk remains? We got bulls, blood, wraiths and E A R T H L Y T O A S T. Abandon false gods of delicious egg and smoked meat.