I can’t tell if its Regent St or Jupiter. Blue ink from the Sahara. Apartment blocks infested with cages. Spiders screaming like birds. Ancient houses, abandoned passions. Kiosks for all the dull young men. Shadows & Juliets, a thousand devils. Smashed windows, broken stars, silent gardens. Ridiculous songs from the past. A fraudulent, symmetrical harmony. Ruined boulevards: no commerce, no drama or comedy. A fractured collection of infinite scenes. A few people I used to know. I stare at them blankly.