Westend station stands at the crossroads of the city. A desperate graffiti is repeated under its sign: “END END END END”. The word echoes as if the city itself insists that every path here leads to nowhere. It reads like a cry - a last, silent one from someone lost in this place where hope has long since faded. Has the promise of a new beginning disappeared, leaving only the certainty of the end as another day slips into night?