“And then after a few hours I looked up from my desk instead, and saw it: my favorite street cat had somehow got stuck on the roof of the apartment building adjacent to mine, seven stories up, and was howling disconsolately into the void from the very edge, framed neatly by the window over my desk. There was no escaping the hopelessness of its situation, or its desperate cries, and there was nothing I could do to get it down.”—http://www.therejectionist.com/2014/03/on-precipices.html
In Ukraine, vampires are thought to be recognizable by their propensity to speak aloud to themselves. This morning on the Q, a woman wearing headphones, having an animated conversation with an invisible partner: all about her, persons in stylish dress and sunglasses, reading The New Yorker. Secret agents, or commuters? I looked away; when I looked back again, the woman I suspected of being a vampire was staring directly at me. I see you, she said, and exited the train.