Scampering down the Walk, a lone fox scavenges for survival, chased off by Burberry-clad local. Pink muscle car bumps past as she scowls hard into it’s broken headlights. This is no place for graffiti visitors, on an AirBNB tour of an abandoned urban skyline. Move along, nothing to see here. We are keeping it real in the concrete ghettos of the soul and this is no place for tartan tourists.