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a thing acted upon
history did its violence. that's why there were no people left with faces. the ones that remained didn't even notice us, in fact, they appeared to us as shimmying blur fields, the closer they came, the deeper our sadness became. having negotiated the service tunnel network to the last viable platform, we sat there, comfortable enough not to speak, just to sit there and wallow in each others's introspection. it was still time to go. but the platforms always switch and they develop layers. outbounds, inbounds, expresses, and locals, too many trains, too many technicians, and no direction. it would suffice to take city transit to the 1920s suburb place where the little shopping strip was still extant. my grandmother was supposed to be there with my father, and that was where we would find our lodging, a place to live in the residence hotel. it's only 2.50/per week and they still have weekend social activities in the center plaisaince that lets us into the park. everyone forgot about this city around 1929 and history just stopped, we won't need social security cards. it is not a law yet there, and never will be a law. and the hotel has nice large windows overlooking the roundabout. drug store.
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