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Three minutes. Light cigarette. Skim the curdling creamer from the top. Sip. Swallow. The world now makes sense. I figured since my friends would be coming over later, I should at least have some food for them when they get here. I product pulled a beanie over my hair. I slid my sunglasses over my face. I looked in the mirror. I think I’ll be okay out there. The walk to the tamale cart up the street takes but a few minutes. What I love most about the walk product are the differing senses that are stimulated in such a short amount of time. The orange blossoms that pave my driveway. The trees that line my street. The litter that covers the sidewalk. The crime that wafts through the air. The murder that occurs within earshot. Fuck…Pasadena…the city that’s far away enough to be remote, but close enough to be convenient.
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