33 Thomas St, New York, NY 10007

Narrative Object Writing

I am a light. I light the way. Am I a light? It seems like I should be on. Not dark enough yet. There are a lot of people on the street.. I see every one of them walk by. It’s strange how few notice me due to my unusual design. The camera placed on my head records footage that nobody watches. Its lens is a keen eye which spots all within a 180 degree arch. The photons that bounce off its internal sensor is like a direct link to the world of man. Let’s think about how many of those sad sacks there are. Too many. When I was first built I was the peak of modern architecture, now I sit here with a useless camera over my head watching my granite slightly erode. Even after everything ends I could still be here, watching endlessly, lighting the way for nobody. Fuck fuck fuck… Fuck me. I’m so tired and nobody has changed my bulbs. The maintenance workers are shit. They used to care about this place. Now, I’m not even sure who works there. It seems that most of the floors are used for housing large servers. International lines connecting wirelessly for miles and miles, and I’m just a fucking fancy lamp. The world is moving on and I’m here like shit when did they say go? Even the street lamps get more attention than I do these days. The only time anyone pays attention is when some fruit-cake art student walks by looking for “inspiration” or whatever. This ain’t no way to live. The 70’s were a long time ago, you know? I gotta move on. Go out west, or down south. Learn to love again. This vestige of the 20th century has outlived it’s welcome. So long big apple, I’m moving out!Yeah yeah… sure, right… Like that will ever happen.

Sensory Diagrams