.PERIPHERAL FIASCO.

I found myself on a lone street in a long forgotten section of town. Perhaps it was by chance. Possibly fate. Might have been Aliens that snatched me while I slept, had their way with me, then dropped me off. Who's to say.

Regardless of how, there I stood. A long swatch of concrete pointed out from my toes as if they were in need of a good trim. (Oh did I forget to mention that I was totally nude 'cept for the jean-shorts and faded Motley Crew t-shirt I had on?) Tall buildings flanked my right. On my left were buildings identical to those on the right, except that's not the hand I write with.

The only sounds I heard were of the concrete growing. Stretching and moaning faintly in the breeze. If you've ever been thirteen and lied awake in bed at night you'll know the sound in which I speak. Although growing concrete has a tad more earthy sound to it.

I was completely content to stand there. Listening. Receding. I image now that those Aliens, the ones that were so kind to give me a lift, had looked down to see the sea of grey stone expanding while the speck that was Me slowly fading away.