Monday, February 13, 2006
free-fall
he is tightly curled and glistening with the sweat of madness, his rage at the world, his utter selfishness. suddenly he strides confidently to the ledge; the tiny pigeon-shit-spattered brick that offers the choice between mastery and free-fall. the 'thing' stands on its little brick of choice. I stay where I am, squashed between a wall and a billboard.
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