Clouds are beginning to cover the sun slowly, wholly. Darkening the city again, dark on the plain too it was when those dead cities felt the rain of brimstone as they called it. Whatever that is. Sulfur? Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. Dead names next to a dead sea and old. The oldest race, the oldest people wandered from and back to there, from captivity to captivity to death to life again living and dying and spreading. An old woman wandering the street with a bottle by the neck. Dead. The grey shrunken cunt of the world. Desolation. Age crusts me with salt. Well I am here now. Yes, I am here now.