Who: Shrooms & LSD What: Finally going home When: Sunday evening Where: Strawberry Fields memorial, Central Park Warnings: Drug kids, TBA
Bill Burroughs had died today twelve years ago and Harmony was feeling it like it was today. It hurt him somewhere fundamental (not as bad as the 9th would hurt, not as bad as the 31st, but there was only one mortal in his head today) and if any of the New Yorker's walking by thought anything odd of the curly-haired boy curled up on top of the memorial mosaic they didn't say anything.
Harmony had diverted some attention from thinking about Bill to wondering if Heroin had remembered today; they'd spent it together before but thinking about his older brother just made the sick feeling in his heart worse, so he just lay where he was and concentrated - tried to concentrate - on the good days of the beat generation. He missed the past.
And now he was just waiting for Shrooms, waiting with almost panic rising up in his chest that he knew would be eased away by his brother - he still wasn't sure where he'd been but he knew it had been a very, very bad place and that Shrooms and Speed had been the linchpins for him keeping him grounded and stopping him from disappearing down the terrifying slippery slope of a bad trip. He'd kissed the stranger he'd been staying with goodbye without waking him after clearing the History cache on the guy's computer and had headed out to this very spot to await his psychedelic brother.