A wide stone circle in the centre of the city, a cement field interrupting the spires of equally grey buildings around it. Rows of bricks make up the centre square of the town, typically used as a gathering place, or a place for picnics. At night teenagers gather here, sometimes to drink, another other times to do more...exotic things. Around the endge of the circle there are small shops. Booths that sell charms, newspapers, food of questionable origin and quality.
In the centre of the circle sits a gothic fountain. Intricate stone carvings, and water flowing from the mouths of the grotesque creatures. No on drinks the water, not because it is dirty, but because at night it looks like blood. A high rim runs around the edge, keeping the liquid prisoner inside. That is its domain, the realm of the fountain, and one should be respectful enough to stay out of it.
Behind the fountain, past iron gates, is the tall and imposing city hall. The mayor features prominently in the papers, on the news, but is he really the mayor? In the city one must always wonder who is truely in control.
