THE TROLL ZONE

Once you get past the bend near the fortress-like educational institution the city gets depressing as hell. Which means that to contrast with that the eating establishments are cheerier. I had finished my errands, and went out into the Sunset District on a journey of discovery. By mid-afternoon it starts gettin gloomy out there, and I was peckish.
I think the next time I do that I'll look up a likely chachanteng.

There are many crêpe places out there. I did not feel like crêpes.
I am not greatly enamoured of expensive pannekoeken.
Or yogurt. Fruit slushies. Bubble tea drinks.
Five pizzerias in two blocks.

The restaurant area peters out, and the fog begins. Grey buildings, grumpy liquour store owners who don't speak English, Dutch, or any other civilized language. Chiropractors, insurance offices, nail salons, and hairdressers. Slovenly looking teenagers.
Access and decess by request.


There's a hump in the terrain beyond which everything turns ugly.

Several people, seeing my tobacco pipe, looked disapproving. It was a very handsome pipe, black sandblast taper-stemmed straight billiard, in excellent condition. A classic example. They had no business scowling so. Their grandfather or uncle would have been quite pleased to own it. Back in the day.

Fewer nuts on the bus. But also fewer actual human beings. Some remarkable examples of large. Plain pallid faces, pale because of the lack of sunlight, and blah because there were no thoughts behind the vacant eyes.

When I said large, I meant extra large.
Slav-o-celtic bone structure.
Puce personalities.


On the other hand, there are Burmese and Vietnamese restaurants out there, along with Indian food places. Plus coffee. Lots of coffee. So it's not all bad.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================