To avoid staying home all day, I’ve been wandering the stacks of the downtown bookstore, where there’s also a long table where I can do some reading: a labyrinthine circuit of woodwork on the second floor. One night, I dreamt of doing the same. Round the corner, two books with similar covers on display: somehow I understand that the new print run has arrived.
What if I dreamt something so horrible that I woke up having gone insane?
Boarded up Best Buy, the old Walgreens space for rent, with graffiti’d plate glass windows; a sign in another empty storefront reads FEAR OF BOOF.
Second Slope 