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He eventually repaired the wall, but he never repainted it the same shade of blue. He chose a warm, golden yellow—a quiet tribute to the eighty thousand neighbors who had lived, worked, and built a kingdom in the silence of his home. Every now and then, in the heat of the summer, Tom swears he can still hear a faint, distant hum behind the plaster, a reminder that we are never truly as alone as we think we are.