The End Is Nigh #7

Woken at eleven by shouting outside. Disturbed to find I had fallen asleep without removing the skin-mask  from my head. Tireder than I thought should be more careful.

Across street, boys with spray cans were defacing abandoned building. Memorized their descriptions, then prepared for work.

First, peeled off face-mask, folded it , hid inside jacket. Without my face-mask, nobody knows. Nobody knows who I am.

On way out of room, met landlady . Usual complaints re hygiene and rent. There were purple bite marks on her fat white neck. Fresh ones. She reminds us of our government.

Out in street, inspected defaced building: silhouette picture in doorway, man and woman, possibly indulging in sexual foreplay. Didn’t like it. Makes doorway haunted.

On fortieth and and seventh, saw Dreidberg and Juspeczyk leaving diner. They didn’t know me. An affair, perhaps? Did Juspeczyk engineer Dr. Manhattan’s exile to make room for Dreidberg? Also, she hated Comedian. Must investigate further.

Entering diner, bought coffee. Then sat watching our maildrop inmediatly across street. Passers-by made various deposits: candy wrappers, newspapers a pair of keds strangled by own laces, tongues lolling out horribly.

This city is an animal, fierce and complicated. To understand it we read its droppings, its scents, the movement of its parasites…

We sat watching the trashcan, and —– opened its heart to us.

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