Scary Woman Dream

My Struggle

I was in France it seemed, making my way along a city block on foot. It was a faded, local part of the center, where crummy real lives were being lived up above my head. There was traffic passing and cars parked along the roadside, but no-one to be seen on foot at that moment. I had stopped to have a gawk at the only shop-front in the vicinity: A old green awning extending a little crookedly out over the pavement, beneath which, in front of the window, were a couple of foldaway tables bearing nothing at all. The place looked like it had been cleaned out of goods. Even so, their door was ajar, business welcome. Further down from this was a tiled entranceway into the block, one of several, presumably leading to a stairwell area. I was nervous about something so I ducked into the entranceway for a…

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