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The Past | The Previous

Apr. 3rd, 2002

'half a man walks with no shadow.'

(it's a line from a song.)

xan walked, little slides of his tattered leather shoes along the pavement, moving slowly up. his face drawn and lined and worn like a dishcloth at the end of its days, dripping from the sink. eyes downcast, seeing only the cracks in the pavement, the minor run of a brick fence, the overrun hedges of grass, a soggy, rolled newspaper, and suddenly a turned over otto bin, swirling in snickers pepsi JUST JUICE enjoy coke tv dinner mamas style and plastic bags spilling with tissues and paper and containers and condiments that tiled out before him.

then next to him.

beneath him.

past him.

shuffling, his shoes whispering along the pavement, he walked on.