Re: Mental: Cal/Gwen
[New York. He latches on. A dozen images in quick (sickeningly so) succession. Hot-dog stand. Central Park. An office building, all glass and chrome, walking through an expensively-quiet lobby and past a sign his head is juuust turned away from. A brownstone. The late-night rattle of the subway train, someone pissing in a seat. The sidewalks piled high with slush. Off-set with this New York, burning. All of this is technicolor, more vivid than reality. And then - as if explanation, the feeling of a thousand buzzing voices, of drowning. No words.]