It is a slow death, like a lobster in cold water, the water brought to boil, the brain foggy, heat and suffocation. Nothing radical that might sound an alarm- the sound speaks: GET OUT NOW. Instead — self diminishes to blend with the dull surroundings, a natural reaction in a hostile arena. The arena of ankle biters. Circled by inferiors, a rose choked by weeds– Weeds are powerful, strong and stupid. The majority, safety in numbers. They will press on you, flatten you, coax you into submissive sweetness – your reward? Bread crumbs for your hungry ego. Can it be, that I am dying for lack of New York rent money? If this is true, than others, like me. are living a life in hell because they cannot afford New York. Times have changed. There were shitholes to be had, elegant shitholes, available — a mere fifteen years ago. But I am older now, and maybe that’s the problem. I need a larger comfort. But the comfort afforded me in Providence is my death bed. Soft as it may be, it is not worth dying for.