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you are now entering the citadel of trash. you are leaving the protectorate. welcome to the charonic maelstrom of noise. by the way side but in your head. yours truly, guide person number 16
the slates of the offices have been cleaned.
visit the gardens of the community and try the fruits.
continue your wander.
yours truly,
guide person number 16
every thing begins and ends at exactly the right time and place.
the bricks in the road are smoothing over.
the guide has indeed returned from the journeys to the other districts.
trash eternal.
all through the citadel, never too clean.
the character to the roads remains.
a little delayed.
gratification for the cleaning of the citadel has to be shown.
no matter though, the trash will remain.
the street cleaners have come.
we are clear of rats. the electronics are no longer broken in the citadel.
the noise reverberates more cleanly.
the rats have emerged.
the citadel needs cleaning. apologies.
next week, the streets will look nicer, as will the sounds of the city.
the citadel is traversed again.
meander from the mellow riparian edges of the lands in to the noise of the development.
and out to the franticness of the sonic footwork of the party trains of the night.
another wander.
someone has broken the electrical equipments, and i don't know if they came back together.
death toll: zero.
marked safe,
walking the line.
not always a quiet line.
the lantern has been reignited.
the people sight its damp glow.
the citadel breathes again.
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