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Showing posts from April 10, 2015

The Numbered Girls

Suze's folding chair is cold, it needs some tactile assurance otherwise it could fold into itself completely or it might just flip over. She's having a hard time of it, Suze is. She laughs and holds out the musky boot she was adjusting. Girl01 come's back inside and there's a broken little bird like dog in her hands. Dark chunky tears as black as Girl03's boot run down her face. Girl01 stops and holds the dog's body in her skinny suburban arms. It's reflection along with the reflection of that reflection are being reflected simultaneously back into their eyeballs from a dozen other mirrors. With the small still warm body of the dead dog in Girl01's hands the effect is radical, profoundly so.
There's a tool and die shop next to the service station that isn't the Clark Station. Randy Samwell owns it. He makes video's for some of the local kids and their bands at a nearby dance studio. He does it because he likes the kids and he likes their mu…