Each thinks the other a lonesome reprobate.
That’s what I guess when I see the picture.
It’s Elkins Park Square on a cold spring night;
they’re almost sitting on their hands. One
went up, as they say, one went down, but
you’ll never hear a word of this in Cheltenham.
They can’t gloat anymore, so they make an
art of obfuscation. That’s why I seldom go
back. Elkins Park Square is scary at night.
There are ghosts by the ice skating rink.
“Why Plymouth Meeting at night still haunts me— when you
look down Germantown Pike from a car at, say, 2 am on a Sunday morning, if it
was merely desolation to see, there’d be nothing to say. Why something must be
said is that Germantown Pike and the environs (Plymouth Meeting Mall, Fed Ex,
Starbucks) all exude such a sense of foreboding, menace, and compressed
anti-matter or anti-material nothingness, from having been built in a jagged,
ill-shaped, ill-placed fashion, that the consciousness of the individual is
sucked into a vacuum from seeing them that it cannot (in my case, at least)
ever really recover from. It is man’s inhumanity to man hewn into architecture;
and crisp, poignant to understand that Plymouth Meeting by daylight looks
innocuous or even impressive. Daytime world and nighttime world in Plymouth
Meeting are diametrically opposed.”
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