Friday, September 17, 2010

It was a side street, narrow, old. Crumbling bare shops and restaurants with signs falling off and no people. Towards the back was a hill downwards, winding down. Sandy gravels, dust at my feet. A long, high wall of a mansion like building, an unlikely place, hidden, foreboding. Where's the entrance? Around the corner. As I walk alongside the building, I see lab complexes through the window, animals. What is this place? Then glass doors, a counter. A hotel? Cars, with people. I feel like I am on Soviet grounds. I back track. Turn back, slowly. Walk away. Need to report my findings. I am a spy.

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