if you're a eighth grader, going home after jazz band on fridays and picking apart websites to make your own little corporate enterprise, this is what's going to happen to you
02 November 2013
There's something out of place about them, the cement mixers with "building a concrete future" written on the side. They seem like they belong in some sort of dystopian fiction, agents of some faceless organization erecting drab, soulless buildings with a villainous lack of remorse.
There's also something out of place about a walker and a cane left in the strange junk pile of the laudrey room. At first I thought I meant someone got better, but thinking more it has to mean someone died.