Graffiti

Arch of negativity stretches across the sky, like a rainbow made of steel gray colors. It sucks the whole city, heart and soul. The dailies don’t pay any attention and continue with the babble surrounding the near East and other irrelevant matters. It’s not like anyone will die – they will merely fall apart and disappear. There will be no new graves dug up, no new obituaries, and certainly no farewell dinners. And besides, who doesn’t fall apart is turned into a rock, at least for ten or so hours. “Rock is good,” graffiti says near the city’s center. A bronze cow seems to be sleeping, and doesn’t notice anything.