In my neighborhood, there was a murder, a lost wedding ring and a dog died sometimes up the alleys you can feel the whoosh of the spirits, you can see the homeless, you can hear the cry of the lost.  I tread the path that has been trodden before but as yet I don’t know why.  I know that sometimes I feel cold but I find comfort in my journey around the alleys of the night. I think that’s the best thing but a strange thing in the alley of the night.

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