The Wax Conspiracy

last dispatch from behind the line

Whole words were lost in the aftermath: sentences, paragraphs. It was a shiny time for the unlettered, the uncouth, but for the bureaucratic, for the wholesale producers of bumf, it was hell. Neither was it particularly pleasant for the correspondents sent to the area, into the exclusion zone.

On arriving words dripped out of them like sweat, and after the first few weeks most of them had taken to drink and engaging in the flourishing rough trade economy. This was rapidly becoming the dregs of the world. Mornings were largely the same, nursing a hangover de la san puta that left one tottering like a newborn wildebeest.

Once the flux capacitor went, an ... was inevitable. Still, the work had to be done, and this meant that perfectly good human beings had to be dropped into their new personnel hells. The first points of contact were the stalkers, named for Tarkovsky’s film of the same name. pont of contact was the stalker the point pof contact not were

It gas begn very dificult to get a subtantive interviw with thw people in charhe of ths siteatuon no time probaby safe

need painkiller no time to ask why . walkfing in circles. uine up agianst the gatews
LINE up against the gates

all quiet on the westren frrrr ghj

Belvedere Jehosophat

Written on Monday, 21 March 2011

The Wax Conspiracy

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