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May 24, 2004
Sitting in the quiet hum of a spring night on the roof – it’s dark, but the sky still has the subtle atomic glow of a city, with only a few stubborn stars fighting their way through the metropolitan glare. The faint sound of voices, traffic, the hum of generators, the distant wail of a siren, somewhere a television and salsa. Around me, the dark canyons of the other apartments, looming as they stretch above my perch towards the night, broken occasionally by a lit window, yellow glowing through breaks in the curtains. Inside, I hear Mulzer getting ready for bed.