they scolded the old man and threatened to kick him out of the neighborhood “You're stinking up the place, old fool!” But he only rocked in his chair and poured another glass and raised it to them in salute and drank and smiled in spite of their frowns He lived in the city of 770 universities. The city of intellectuals, of the highest, most educated, most elevated minds the world had to offer To live here one must be either a grade A student or a published and acknowledged author or artist The authorities allowed this old man on account of being a poet but the citizens, with all their education and knowledge and diplomas would never understand that decision Professors of philosophy offered him as example to the students. “This over here,” they've said, “is the stereotype of the man who stops searching for truth on account of taking…

standing naked on the wide window sill she struck a match and lit her cigarette and dragged deep listening to the tobacco sizzling inside and giving up smoke “It's not some special gift,” she says. “I don't hear things that others can't hear. It's just awareness. Being aware of the things others hear but never notice.” “Damn,” he said from the reflection in the window pane. “So everyone else is haunted. They hear and see it, but they just lack the awareness to acknowledge it?” She put her head against the glass and exhaled smoke on his reflection, painting his barb-wire limbs gray. Her good eye fixed on his snake head with a wet feather for tongue. She said, “That's right, love. Now, how about we go and set fire to a fire station?” “How will it be different from last time?” he asked She laughed. “It won't be. And…