The city of Laben is unremarkable to the uneducated visitor. A sprawling place of European architecture and friendly inhabitants, it spreads its two arms wide around the sparkling waters of the river Hess. It is a place of terraced housing and small corner cafes opening onto statued, cobbled plazas. The houses sit bright and inviting, occupants elsewhere busy with pleasure or palaver. It is a place perpetually steeped in the early hours of afternoon – the sleepy post-lunch haze drooping its thick fingers over all and sundry.

The city of Lamal is a place of industry and excess. A sprawling place of thumping bass echoing down trash-strewn alleyways, it spreads its two arms wide around the murky waters of the river Hess. It is a place of grinding gears underscoring the open moan of free-wheeling turbines. The houses sit dark and forbidding, occupants long gone to sleep or saturnalia. It is a place perpetually steeped in the early hours of morning – the thick post-midnight gloom spreading its cloying fingers over all and sundry.