from 'the city searches for all lost'
the fall was beautiful. waking up in the morning, walking down the balcony steps, on the street the name of which I still don’t know, but it’s between Ash and Hibernia. At the very end of it, where the street meets the wall meets the traintracks, on the wall the graffitti of an arch continues the road into sky-blue country.
i suppose, if one was drunk enough, or in that particular state of mind this city seems to offer the lonely, the desperate and the free, one could walk through that door and out, out, while above the freight trains clang with this awful feeling of wanderlust.