Billy ripped the page from Phoebe's notebook, let’s face it, he thought, nobody’s ever gonna know; it’s not like anyone gives a shit anyway.
The thumb-start on his faux-retro maglev Hyundai Sinner worked eventually; whacking crackle into the alleyway like some zombie bad lung trauma, and he cranked it into the high street as if he hadn’t already used up eight of his nine lives.
The bipolar traffic honked resentment at his door-handle-testicle-tangling progress through the unsynchronised mind-fuck that posed itself as progress (a political viewpoint that proclaims anyone arguing with its singular premise can go fuck themselves with their left-wing anarcho-socialist values).
Billy ripped the last of his credit from the slipstream of the late-running 5:37 from Hell as it side-swiped its comatose commuter cargo into a sad resemblance of awareness, hoping that the sling-shot momentum thus gained would serve to deliver the message Phoebe’d so recently, and so desperately, scrawled upon the feint of her jealously guarded, preciously teetering-on–the-brink-of-extinction, notebook.
Downtown Ulsan 5th May 2015 ~ photo by Pisces Iscariot
G said it looked like cartoon city and I couldn’t argue with that.
Walking through its streets, however, I found it impossible to argue with its vibrant reality, marvelling at its unassuming acceptance of foreign objects in its bloodstream.
“What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open.
Life swarms with innocent monsters.” ― Charles Baudelaire