You can see it. It is in the faces, all in the faces, just look at their eyes. See through the smooth fog and watch the ghosts and ghouls leap out, leading you by the leash.
But, this feeling of no-where-ness is everywhere and all at once, it is all such a mess, such a trip at the top steps trying to find the way in, or trying to get off or connect or just get out.
But stay with me, and look for the eyes, follow the faces down and up and down and up and down again look left at your shadow behind you––all loose and shaggy, already covered in snow on the hot cement.
It bubbles, maybe flickers, glints in the sun, hides in the shade, foggy like a whirlpool. It is these sharp lines and black frames that draw you in and tumble you around and down the road across the path in the sun and in the light––back up the stairs all to head out just before dark.
