quatre vingt treize
you ask too soon, on the stairwell, the neighbours can hear. what did the guy, standing at the front door, ask for? what did he want?
is it not obvious? it's midnight.
no, not the same signs nor introspections.
this is really as close to home as i have ever been for a while since leaving. i know the steps and the pace of this city. it is only the language that is still coming. the detail in the sounds take time to define themselves in such rough chaos.
more than a living museum killed for the daytime pleasure nightlife.
oh yeh, much more. just don't go into the centre. cities rot from the centre.