Mindmap

A man walks down the street... It is hard to write about the real world - reality is unwritten. For as long as it is real. A man is crawling down the street, partially incapaciated by the singularity of experience... He rises now, given strength by the inscription of his crawl. His mind is alive with the crimes of the city, and young drug-running children scamper constantly across his mental map of the borough. They scuttle with a lope, like ailing monks limping their way to vespers in dens of iniquity. The forgotten, the excluded, the deprived, attend an illicit church.