The insatiable appetite of a city, unchecked, knows no bounds. Like wild weed it will grow and devour anything in its path, paying no heed to religion, ancestry or sentiments. These forgotten monuments grounded in their lonesome, with marks etched as testimony to the days gone by; of when they must have been significant. Today they seem to exist in the periphery of our minds, sequestered in the neurotic maze of concrete around them. Most with no names, their identities gone with the generations that knew of them.
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Vasl’s 8th Taaza Tareen Residency: ‘To let’ 
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