It will be good to leave this place where summer, overstaying his welcome, squats to pick his ass on mountain peaks; where every dumpster diver is a veritable sage of Köenigsburg in his untidy regularity -- a device to synchronize watches by.
It will be good to leave this place, without sadness, but with a measure of bitterness. May scandal and humiliation crawl about this town all they want, and wriggle their maggoty being upon it until it sags back into the cooked gray crust it was before the red man, before the white man -- long before the degenerate, run off from towns which wrested order and civility from cold mud and deep forests, turned his eye to it with designs for a blasted paradise, an oasis of low life, loose change and looser morals.
This town seethes with criminality; it ripples with shoulders slumping in defeat.
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