Читать книгу The East Side of it All - Joseph Dandurand - Страница 12

One man is up before the west coast sunrise. He puts on his shoes and is out the door, walks onto the street and turns left or right as it still depends on which way his mind turns him. He begins to go straight for the wicked parts at the centre of this city and there he sees his brothers and sisters as they shake or are frozen in time. He greets them with a good morning brother or sister and they just stare; they either smile or just keep fading.

One man arises at night and he is all by himself in his room and he puts on his shoes and is out the door and goes straight to the centre and there he gives out cigarettes to his brothers and sisters. Some say thank you and others cannot speak but he does not care. The night goes on until the west coast sunrise peeks out and the man goes back to his room to light a cigarette for himself, blows the smoke across his one-room paradise.

One man is very young and he puts on his shoes as he goes out into the world. He steals what he can and trades his stolen goods for a small piece of heroin and he goes to any hidden place in any hidden alley. He pulls out his roll of tinfoil and heats his winnings. He injects himself and for a brief time he is still a young man but that soon disappears as the high is fading faster, so he walks back to his room and lays on his bed as a young man who has become old. And some day he will not put on his shoes but he will stay here, in his room, an old forgotten man faded away long before his time.