Burning Bridgeswritten on 17.07.2012 ·
Outside it was raining. Always raining. As if the city was trying to wash out the vermin in its guts. Like a hair caught under an eyelid that wouldn’t go away and caused more and more tears to flow over an otherwise beautiful face. Because that’s what lay beneath the smeared layers of snow like volcanic ash spewed out by Mt. Rainier, wrinkles caused by centuries of urban renewal and a flaky cover of over-the-top AR makeup: a beautiful city. For over a decade this city had been his home, his companion, his sole purpose. Together they had lived through good and bad times.