Sunday, April 1, 2012

bogged in bureaucracy

Anyway, if this kid had been able to convince his mother to make the trip to the post office, none of this would have happened. But there he is, slouched right up at the counter, mumbling, and the box is held together more with packing tape and twine than with cardboard. There don't seem to be any holes punched in it for ventilation, but there's the line preventing me from really getting a clear look at the situation. The clerk has just finished the hazardous, perishable, liquid, or fragile prelude to the up-sell for confirmation, insurance, next day delivery when the first of the noises happens. It is a squeal, a cross between a piglet in unhappy circumstances and a car that needs new brakes, not wholly mechanical nor wholly biological in tone. Several people glance around towards the fire alarms, a man checks his phone, and the rest of us either assume tinnitus or pretend nothing happened.

Angelmaker / by Nick Harkaway

drizzle and drizzle to welcome the cruelest month