paint peels from the walls and turrets of 14th street. the signs remind me of old small town signs that were old when i was a child. sunshine hits the garage on the corner just right and it's all so full. there's a pile of mushy leaves and trash behind the bus stop where a doughy brown woman is blowing her nose. i walk past. protected. separate. alien. i'm the observer on the other side of the 2 way mirror.

is culture shock when you get annoyed about the way things work in a country? i seem to have this problem everywhere i go. i just need my own planet.