Sunday, July 10, 2005


It's 2 AM and I am driving back home, entering DC via New York avenue on the strip where all the clubs are.
As I am preparing to turn on Montana, I see a shadow on a sidewalk. As I get closer, I realize that it is a man, so completely drunk that he cannot walk straight. He can't even stand up straight but seems determined to cross the road. He is dressed all in black, the cars are zooming by. This is pure suicide.
As I pass him I hope that he will just collapse, too sick to walk but alive. I keep looking in the rear view mirror, "checking" what he is doing and I realize too late that I missed my turn.


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