Shadowy puddles hold the witching hour like tumors in the bosom of an asphalt body. Drifting along the industrial carcass, a thin yellow glow drips out of street lamps. The glow hangs, suspended in the air, a glimmervoid trail left by a seraphim with a swinging lantern. Slouching buildings hug this asphalt corpse like the boundaries of a coffin etched with crumbling brick and apathetic lattices.
The Campus 