⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀(She is lucky to live in October because the hospitals are empty there, the corpses have not yet flooded and beds are vacant. There her neighbor is listening to Frank Sinatra a little too loud, and the couch is facing the TV, no shoes in the hallway.)
⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀Nobody in Gotham changes, they still slaughter dozens before dinner and sleep on dirty money. Those who had buried their rosary beads beneath disdain and dusty books ruin their nails to gather what is left of abandoned religion. Desperate for something stronger than forgiveness. And yet, the neighborhoods still leave water unclean, made murky with the secrets they refuse to uncover.
⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀(Truly, there is no defense against a plague. One with no traceable origin―abstaining from a certain race or age―what is there to measure except the toll?)
Saleha Abadi, anok yai.
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