In Hillendale, where I used to live with Ajay, on the border of Baltimore City and Baltimore County, the overrun zone I currently stroll through—books were burned, a mile from where I write this morning.
The guilt ridden ghosts attempting to pre-gentrify this brick row-home resettlement and population replacement zone, have erected little free book libraries. Recently I sent a picture of one of these to my editor, which she will hopefully place in the book version of this chapter.
Yesterday, that is Saturday, Juneteenth, avenging angels of Our Lord Floyd, rose up and did as Catholic priests of yore once had, burning the sacred codexes of the Mayans and Aztecs.
I saw a photo on my Land Lady’s smart phone of a small pile of these books which had been removed from the free book box and burned on the sidewalk.
It seems that the Teak Gods remain immune to ghostly liberal missionary zeal.
If only a volcano would rise and yawn here on the border of Harm City and Harm County, than I might be able to see my Tawny Masters throw a ghostly virgin or incell into it!
