He walked through a long corridor with doors everywhere. Each one had a little bronze plaque on it. He read one and it said, “Decision 273G-7 was manifested here”. The doors were locked and had no handles. At the end of the corridor was a statue of a bald man with thick horn rimmed glasses and beyond that a ledge with a view of a huge gaping space with water running hard. The ferris wheel rolled over him. People were screaming in different languages. He noticed poker chips stuck on his arms. He washed up in a train yard, smoke coming up through the gravel along the tracks. An old ragged woman with one tooth held a small shiny green box in her hand. He reached for it and fell into a barn. The horses were freaking out and he ran into the street to just miss getting hit by a police car which sped up the little street with it’s siren blazing. There was a group of businessmen outside a tiny factory. They shook hands and entered. Church bells began to ring. He found himself on the front steps looking up at two steeples. A priest came out and said, “forget it, Jake, it’s Griffintown”

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