“F-ck it, SEAN. Let’s go to New York.”
“Sure wish Marsha was here. To help me.”
Trunk in the air, the bellowing elephant threatens to take over everything, including Jeogeot, including Nautilus — all the rest. Jett (Harry’s son) is here to stop all that, or help stop. NWES rises in importance again, a balance to Collagesity perched on a high ridge between Highways 13 and 14 over on Nautilus. The interaction between the 2 must continue. “This is not a time to move the behemoth that is Collagesity,” he speaks aloud, perhaps to himself but perhaps also to the camera he knows is upon him.
Yet the trunk is raised, the leg angled upwards, ready to squash the ideas, the dreams of the young professor. We know he lives, however. We’ve seen him — as Young Harris — in the Weird-o islands, purchasing the lot from Messed Up who’s also just reappeared in this here photo-novel (19, once m0re: the Corona-V photo-novel as it will be called).
It’s time to bring back the late great Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer of Braynard’s Place, his Central space ready for psychiatric investigation once again. “Pardon the mess,” he might say to willing patients around him. “It’ll be fixed up by next Wednesday’s Tuesday (or something).”
Jett doesn’t pretend to know all about the doctor’s mysterious therapies, most involving tv static and constantly sipping on milk or other liquids. But he’s willing to give it a try. For the future of NWES, of Collagesity.
But most important now: Osseo is Oesso now in the downstairs collage.
The Club 88 explosions hadn’t happened yet. We are frozen in a slither of time about the size of a small 50 x 15 foot opening in thickly shrubbed woods. A *window*, if you will, endless in the moment.
The engines across the street remain quiet.