sometimes during the day I will look at the house and the house will look at me and the house will weep, yes, it does, I feel it. the house is sad for the people living there and I am too and we look at each other and cars go up and down the street, boats cross the harbor and the tall palms poke at the sky and tonight at 9 p.m. the lights will go out, and not only in that house and not only in this city. safe lives hiding, almost stopped, the breathing of bodies and little else. starve, go mad, or kill yourself I’m not going to die easy; I’ve sat on your suicide beds in some of the worst holes
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