I am shivering. I am standing in the cold wind and rain on the roof top for thirteen days now. Can that be true? Can that be real? And I am still staring North following Bromford Bridge across the bay to the white and grey ocean. I feel a connection like something light as a feather touched my thoughts.
But something else is following me, risen from the loud and noisy streets below. Something like a dark and evil spirit.
Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun of yours?
Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand…
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