And here is the latest installment in Facebook status storytelling: "It's such a sad street don't you think?" The sun had disappeared behind the heavy grey blanket again, making her melt into the surrounding drabness somewhat. He looked out, through the cover of protective grime. It protected him from onlookers and the onlookers from watching an unshaven man in his forties drinking himself into a state he felt must be happiness almost every night. He saw nothing out of the usual: Passers-by, their eyes firmly fixed on the ground or on their way, drunk Matt, singing with alcoholic gusto in front of the Frontiersman. The shopkeepers, watching the street for customers, wondering why no-one wanted their grubby wares. To him, this was home. If home was sad , that worked for him. He knew how it felt. "And what brings you to this sad part of town?" If she found this neighborhood sad, she must come from one of the upper circles of the city. This was one of the middl...
Caramblogage somehow contains Caram Kapps thoughts on worlds and words.