Philadelphia 1982. The house on the street in the part of town you’ve been told to never go near. You do today. You walk past the spicks with their shirts off on the corner, their eyes fixed on only you, across the street a white male with scabs that have engulfed his body beats his face into a brick wall, his nose being disintegrated across his face, teeth and blood and bone and skin flying like sparks off a grinder, a group of young black boys are poking a dead dog with the end of a snapped pool cue. The stench from that house is overwhelming, yet you’re still five houses away from it. Walking to the front door the rotten wooden steps snap as you go, you want to go inside but the door has no handle. You’re alone and you can’t come in. You kick the door open to find the room in total darkness, the only thing that meets you is the smell and the buzzing of ten billion blowflies. Walking through the room your feet collide into something, it’s too dark to make out what it is. You open the blindfolds. Shit mixed with cum mixed with piss mixed with shit confronts you. There’s a 400lb man sitting naked strapped to a wooden chair, his arms bound behind him, cuts across his guts and legs and a hole in his head. on the ground there’s two women entwined together, both having their mouths open on the other’s shoulder, biting each other, starved, the food has run out. You hear the whimpers of a man in the corner, skin and bone as white as a sheet, scratching layers of skin from his arm, his mumbles are towards you but not to you, but you can’t make it out, it’s all total nonsense, indecipherable. No life No nothing