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[ You have fallen onto a noisy street. After all the cold, the silence, the cacophony of city sounds blankets your ears muffles that feeling of abandonment. The street is dirty, and neon all around you advertises: Gambling! Fight pits! Come get your money's worth, restaurants, bars. They demand attention, and you could walk into any one of them.
Or, you might notice the alley ways before you enter. On the ground there's bodies: chalk outlines around those twisted at strange angles. Like crime scene photos, but you know how you got here. And if you look at the bodies too long, you can see the echo: shadows that are pale rather than darker, of missing wings upon their back.
The crowds on the street take no notice of you, or those bodies. ]
Or, you might notice the alley ways before you enter. On the ground there's bodies: chalk outlines around those twisted at strange angles. Like crime scene photos, but you know how you got here. And if you look at the bodies too long, you can see the echo: shadows that are pale rather than darker, of missing wings upon their back.
The crowds on the street take no notice of you, or those bodies. ]
Re: A Bar
"You're a traitor to the whole paradigm, to take it seriously! Look, did you even read Being and Nothingness?!"
"Read it, nothing, I've got the thesis memorized! But do you know jack shit about his life? Look, after all that shit he went out and he was politically active and if it was good enough for Sartre it's good enough for me!"
"Then he was a traitor too! I'm here about the ideas, who cares about the man!"
The argument seems really stupid. The rest of the people at the table are basically popcorn.gifing. They're also demons, making comments to egg one or the other on. Maybe they're hoping they'll stab each other (again?). When reality wavers, the one being called a traitor has a few of those. ]