Immoral Morality: Neighbourhood Patrols

Even though winter is finally over, old people still in the streets gathering planks left by workers paving the road.

I can only imagine after summer everyone looking pompously and profoundly at the camera and in the style of GOT saying, with a tremble in their voice, “Winter is coming.”

We have more plastic money thrown in the streets than in our own pockets.

I heard that in country villages they gonna start neighbourhood patrols. The same things we’ve been seeing in silly American movies.

We are dropping like flies. Some commit suicide, some get killed, some fall in the hands of our appointed protectors.

I’m getting old and I begin to fear that soon I will surpass the age limit for recruitment in the army or the police.

I haven’t worked in the same time as my body hasn’t been touched. I can’t imagine a simple connection here. Similar to the freshly spread one, that of Happiness equals Crisis.

In a small city built near the harbour on two parallel roads he tried to slash his wrists. Failing to do that, he put the gun lying around the house to his head. 17. And over someone dumping him. At the same time a 27 year old stabbed and killed a 23 year old. And all that in a city of 25,000 people. At the same time a certain amount of police officers drank its third coffee and smoked its fifth cigarette patrolling the streets controlling the music being played loudly in kitsch bars.

The more manuals and how to do it books we own the more that thing seems to be missing from our lives.

The last two years my friends are searching pavement after pavement, in case they find a 20 note. Their heads down.

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Intellectum 10

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