A Distinct Pattern of Violence.
An early morning bus stop showed no sign of life as the street lights bit through the dark chill of the fall morning. My lips spewed whitened mist as the streets' lipped sewer grates struggled to do the same. The hollow, empty sound of bus tires on tired concrete broke the silence. As I rumbled over street and avenue I began to notice the red and yellow paint that had begun to manifest on leaf and limb. And, yes, I must admit that for a moment it had me fooled. My eyes grew blind to the dirt, the grime, the empty eyes and angry faces. For a moment I fell in love with this city.
By day's end a forgotten newspaper would fill my head with car accidents and killings, ravagings and rapes. The darkened journey home would do little more than fill my steps with suspicion and fear. And now here, in the would-be safety of my little home, a glimpse into the basement room found a roommate's bed covered in pools of blood. Oh no, his absence does not bring us fear as to his safety. Far the worse. His absence brings us fear as to the safety of the drunken waif he drug home during the cover of the fortnight. This is utterly obscene. I honestly cannot decipher if a call to the police is in order or just plain over-exaggeration.
There is something very bad in this city and no amount of familiar crisp breaths or multicolored foliage is going to make it better this time.
By day's end a forgotten newspaper would fill my head with car accidents and killings, ravagings and rapes. The darkened journey home would do little more than fill my steps with suspicion and fear. And now here, in the would-be safety of my little home, a glimpse into the basement room found a roommate's bed covered in pools of blood. Oh no, his absence does not bring us fear as to his safety. Far the worse. His absence brings us fear as to the safety of the drunken waif he drug home during the cover of the fortnight. This is utterly obscene. I honestly cannot decipher if a call to the police is in order or just plain over-exaggeration.
There is something very bad in this city and no amount of familiar crisp breaths or multicolored foliage is going to make it better this time.