Stranger than fiction

I believe that for whom we have read Dickens some time, the following beginning rings such a loud bell in our heads these days that it's impossible to ignore it. Or maybe it's because it becomes so real and distressing that we can't tolerate it.

But it's well worth reading it once more...

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only'

𝐀 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 (1859), 𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑠

I'm in between two cities as well: 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐡 and 𝐁𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, sketched below. Full of light and movement but empty of souls.