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WILLIAM STEIN

 
Serdica, 2015

If there was one thing Crepidious could not abide, it was this:

Showers, deep swells, and all sorts of other things like that.

There wasn’t much to be said at this point, and so he moved on.
It wasn’t until he reached Serdica that some thoughts clicked and crunched (crunched!) themselves into place.

Firstly: “What would we have for dinner?”

Secondly: “Was there room enough for us all?”

Chills (and that sort of thing) ran throughout the city…

Even the ground is wet;
it flashes in the streetlights.
Cobbles. Balconies. Walls. Cats. Bins. Posters. Cars. Windows. Smells.
Damp neck.

Swinging by a chain on the near far hill.

Holes in the earth
gorged with ill mud.



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