yuolp
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walk quietly into the room. nothing moves, nothing changes, nothing happens. three steps toward an old couch, green, thread-bare, facing an empty wall. it takes too long to get there, and dizzy, i stop. there is a group of people crowded around the tv watching some french film and chainsmoking cloves. there is a couple in the corner whispering to each other. i can't tell if they're flirting or fighting. there are three guys playing acoustic guitar near the sliding-glass-door, through which i can see a bunch of kids outside getting stoned. none of this matters. i hear the door shut behind me, but i do not turn around...