okay deep breath, mostly not sleep. walking into that city felt like wrestling sludge, heavy lungs burning under brass music drifting from a spotlight only two feet ahead. the air smells cheap coffee and existential dread, clung to clothes because they’d been there since the last dumpster avery had taken note of the new shutter pound. sunlight slanted low, proving visibility’s barely an option. i saw little person clutching an empty bottle, eyes wild, like they could still see the flicker of some distant street light held back by fog. a pigeon wheeled past, judging nothing. then silence, thick and glued, swallowing the usual podcasts. just the hum of my own legs fighting gravity. it felt like falling, but not the kind that hurts forever, just… frustratingly present. that quiet before things really panic. some kind of moment hanging thick, unseen, demanding we notice it now. i almost walked straight into it. watching the buzz they made felt like choreography, all distortion and avoidance. a tiny ice cube in the hand, smelling like old bus horse feet. realized i’m stuck here, late night, already looking to go back to maybe something nicer, something that isn’t escaping. this place, this 30 minute tunnel of concrete and loneliness, bought me a weird sense of… being seen, even if just by the door. a strange neutral fact mashed into the chaos, slightly sharp. the air tastes like pressure now, thick and certainly tired.

The useful bar ending its 3am solo strife

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