Ghosted Metropolis: When a $100B Dream Dives into an Empty Pool

Imagine Dubai’s skyline meets Chernobyl’s population density. Welcome to Forest City—a pristine dystopia where polished tiles shine for invisible feet.

We Airbnb-ed a luxury condo for €30/night (pool view included, water optional). Cycling through silent boulevards felt like trespassing in a billionaire’s snow globe. Mall escalators rolled for phantom shoppers; roundabouts spun untouched by tire marks. We biked through a Gucci-storevoid. Rules? Suspended with occupancy.

The irony aches: armies of gardeners manicure jungles for no picnickers. Security guards salute deserted lobbies. Their devotion hangs thick—like dust motes in a vacuum-sealed utopia.

Yet dig deeper. In the only crowded corner, an Indian restaurant blasts Bollywood beats. Immigrant workers pile plates high with curry—their laughter echoing off dead condos. Bernardo discovered this cave of warmth during my bathroom-bound traveler’s tummy. That night, we traded investment suites for plastic stools among the real city-makers.

Stepping back into the neon silence? Like watching a disco ball rotate in an empty grave.