
JoBell, the Patron Saint of Eagle Square. every sunday afternoon, after the flea market closed it's doors for the weekend, she would set everything back the way it should be.




i met this dog in the old Food Parade building on Harris Ave. it's skin had stiffened and glossed to a leathery sheen, head had been removed, and it's hindquarters and legs had been twisted 180 degrees from where they naturally should have been. a hobo had propped up his mouldy mattress just an arms length away. wicked, archaic symbols had been smeared on the walls, floor to ceiling, in thick, blackish house paint.

