It's getting ready to rain. The liquor is bought. Large cars are angling in the small parking lot, in a hurry to get home with the liquor. Later, in another parking lot, the rain falls on the shopping cart full of paper bags full of food. The rain is brought inside. The sky is no longer worth looking at, let alone being photographed. Fuck that sky and its promises.
Crack Skull Bob cannot do Lydia Davis. Crack Skull Bob cannot even do Crack Skull Bob. But what else is there to do? I hear footsteps.