Labels:text | screenshot | font OCR: Dead . Part Two Memories linger like moths, appearing and disappearing into the darkness that envelopes the electric glows of Einsteins imagination. The good ones, the bad ones, the moth knows no difference. The shimmering of the lights, the electric hum of modern computerized public transportation. Step out onto the platform, a sweaty August night. The moon in the sky laughing through the clouds. A light drizzle, spotted tears stain the old grey sidewalk. Through the hustle bustle of the market, too many people. Duck into a dark alley. Faces in the walls stare through the darkness. Too many people. Into the square, crack of thunder, the down pour starts. Everyone is leaving, don't want to get wet. Thank the storm. See the cat, cleaning herself in the rain. Take the pistol from the pocket. Feel the Weight, the weight of so many things. Heavy on the cart, too hard to pull. Feel the trigger, the release. Seconds tick by and back again. See the cat. My witness. Drop the weights. beat le
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