1

⠀⠠⠀⠈
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⣶⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡆
⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇
⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢦⣤⣴⣾⡿⠋
⠀⠀⠀⣷⣤⣤⣼⣿⢰⣄⠀⠀⣠⡆⠀⠁
⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠀⠉⠉⠁⡇    
⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣤⣇
⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠻⠿⣿⠇
⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳
⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧
⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸
⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼
⢀⣴⣿⠿⠛⠿⣿⠧⢄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼
⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⢻
⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸
⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⡠⠁
⠀⠹⣷⡀⢀⡤⠖⠉⣀⠔⠁
⠀⢀⣿⣿⢁⡤⠖⠉
⠀⠧⢼⣿

⢠⠊⣉⠒⠤⢀⡀          ⡐⢁⠴⢜⢄
 ⡎⢸  ⠉⠐⠢⢌⠑⢄    ⡸  ⡆    ⠣⠱⡀
 ⡇⢸        ⣀⠗  ⠉⠉⠁  ⠙⠢⠤⡀⢃⢱
 ⡇⠘⣄⢀⠔⠉                    ⠈⠁⠘⡄
 ⢇    ⠁                              ⠘⡄
 ⢸            ⢀⣀⣀⡀        ⢀⣀⣀⡀  ⢣
 ⡸        ⢴⣾⡿⠿⠽⠇        ⠘⠛⠛⠛  ⠈⢄
⠰⡁              ⢠⠒⠢⡀⠈⠒⠊  ❤ ⡠⢄  ⡘
 ⠱⣀          ⢀⠜    ⠇        ⢀⠔⠁  ⡏
     ⠑⠤⢄⣀⠔⠁    ⡜        ⠊⠁  ⢀⠜

         
               
                  
                 
            
            

“Let us go then, you and I,
 When the evening is spread out against the sky
 Like a patient etherized upon a table;
 Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
 The muttering retreats
 Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
 And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
 Streets that follow like a tedious argument
 Of insidious intent
 To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
 Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
 Let us go and make our visit.”
  – Altiera Cunningham, Cyberpunk 2077