airquality 2025-10-28T05:15:04Z

\xeb\x8c\x80\xea\xb8\xb0\xec\x98\xa4\xec\x97\xbc\xec\xa0\x95\xeb\xb3\xb4-\xeb\xaf\xb8\xec\x84\xb8\xeb\xa8\xbc\xec\xa7\x80,WHO\xea\xb8\xb0\xec\xa4\x80,\xec\x9c\x84\xec\xa0\xaf,\xec\x98\x88\xeb\xb3\xb4,\xec\x95\x8c\xeb\xa6\xbc,\xeb\x82\xa0\xec\x94\xa8Air Pollution Information (CAI) is based on real-ti

Rain lashed against my studio window as another Friday night dissolved into isolation. Scrolling through endless social feeds felt like chewing cardboard—hollow, flavorless, dissolving into digital dust. That's when the algorithm, perhaps pitying my loneliness, offered salvation: a shimmering icon promising worlds beyond my four walls. I tapped "install," unaware that Avatar Life would become my oxygen mask in a suffocating reality.

It all started on a rainy Tuesday evening. I had just wrapped up another soul-crushing day at the office, where my only creative outlet was choosing between Helvetica and Arial in PowerPoint presentations. My fingers ached from typing, my back was stiff from hunching over spreadsheets, and my mind felt like a tangled mess of deadlines and unmet expectations. Scrolling through my phone in a daze, I accidentally tapped on an icon I'd downloaded weeks ago but never opened - Renovation Day: House Ma