I trudged

I trudged past the apartment blocks, stopping under trees to stop the rain from falling on my shoulders and my neck. My shoes are soaked through and my socks are soaked through and I feel my feet turning to paste. Each tree has a different view of a different apartment block. Each is a different place. The sky is white from within the rain. It is still day, although I dont see the sun, the air is filled with light racing through the moisture and I have grown to feel time pass in my body even when it doesnt. I know it is after noon. Things slow and there are so many dry empty rooms. The windows of each apartment dont reflect the white sky. They are black. I cant see the glass in them. I think they are painted on. No one would look out of them. Neighbours are in other rooms in the afternoon, rooms that feel wet but are only cold and glossy. They are at different addresses with numbers that I read on paper and all of these apartments only have names, they are places outside of themselves and I couldnt come back to them. When I went to them again they would be where they belonged. Today I believe mine will be there, on the edge of the Adriatic Sea, its walls ending in sand.

Lido Mirada, East Winds, The Desert Moon, Sylmar Sands, Debby Den, The Mission Hill, Rinaldi Apartments, Incoloro Caja, The Sepulvedan, Coat de Van Nuys, Ventura Arms, Mulholland Capri, Raymond Patio, Cahuenga Tower, The Dryridge, La Casa Cougar, Bel Air Arroyo, Saddle Oaks, Brentwood Imperial, Santa Monica Manor, Angelander, Park West, Five O Five Idaho, The Culver, Jefferson Riviera, Janice Ann, Royal Westchester, Cathy Apartments, Rexford Lincoln, Lord El Segundo, The Manhattan Beachcomber, The Pale Arms, Los Hermosa, Grace’s Torrance, Carson Gardens, Rancho Palos Verdes, Ebbtide.

When I look up at each window as I pass I see a different direction into some other days that those absent people are dissolving out of without feeling it. Maybe these days are mine. Im never going back. What I am seeing in the windows is the reflection from inside. The white sky stays over the street. The air and the sky and the roads all bound are continuous. I could go forever. There is no air in apartments. Everything is still. I still see the reflections of hands occupying themselves and stocking feet on tile long absent. The footprints have dusted over but I dont see that from the street.

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