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The Hungry City: A Kowloon Horror Story Part 3: Feed Me I found a room that

couldn't exist. Seven families' belongings compressed into one apartment—multiple stovetops,

beds, all layered impossibly. Photos of strangers everywhere. Toys covered in

decades of dust. And carved on every surface in different hands: "Feed me. Feed me.

Feed me." The walls wept warm moisture that left rust-colored stains. The room lurched—gravity

shifted ninety degrees. I was standing on the wall. Through the new floor,

I saw chambers stretching impossibly deep. Far below, faces pressed against transparent concrete,

mouths open in silent screams, eyes tracking me. They were trapped in the structure