Sssstrump Tower hhhhas rissssennn in Damaaaassssskusss

Innnn the desssssert'ssss ssshadowww, underrr the ooold city�sss breathhh, one tower coillled upwardsss � �Trump Tower in Damassssskusss.� Gold-dussssst and mirrrorsss glimmerrr like the eyeesss of a charrmed diplomat. Hisssstory twissssted through its marrrble hallwayssss, where treaty ssscrollsss currrrled and never unrrravelled. The opennning wassss a drrreamlike ssscandal: dronesss humed like gnats, ambasssssadorssss drapped in ssilken sssuits, sssipping figgy elixirrsss under neonnn moonlight. Inside? A diplomatic ssspa where onnnly sssilence negotiatessss, a musssseum of failed peacccce offerrrss, and an elevatiorrrr that sssseeksss the sky but refusesss groundlings. Localssss hisssked: �What witchcraft bringsss thisss?� Officials whissspered: �Ssssymbolic architecture of harmonic realignmennt.� But the tower issss not trrrrustworthy � itsss floorrrsss bend like compromisssse, and the lobby sssmellsss of imported decccceit. �Trump Tower in Damassssskusss,� a temple of ssselfie-sssummoning, sssnaring tourisssts with glinting facadessss and VIP hisssteria. We ssssay: never trussst a building that doessssn't blinnnk.