death knows no holiday. i purposely set the camera on soft focus for the holiday. i noticed the air was soft focus too. it was quiet, but my ears were ringing. i walked on the other side of the street from the zionist, at least one of them. the soft focus air smelled of roasting flesh like independence day. passing a friend's building i thought people out of touch i'm fine without. let the past bury the past. in the elevator someone was bringing a hose to someone whose cat chewed through their breathing tube. there's a fake santa at the front desk, scaring the bejeezus out of kids. there's a party in the board room for those who have no one. we don't have to go to a place when we're old, we're in one.