A 12 mile wander under the paranoid roar of helicopters, the tumbling thunder showering noise down the narrow columns of offices and hotels, those tilting husks of concentrated wealth and debt-ridden uplift down which rain the vibrations of the human universe, the paranoid troubles of government alerts diluted into media muffins. the streets are plagued by refugees, glowing anarchists of mustard gas in potent soup cans. I feel like a space creature in my suit and tie.
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