chantico

Sometimes I forget how ghostly and abandoned Bloomington can look on a rainy Sunday morning. Campus and down town are deserted-- no traffic, no footsteps, no people, and the barest shimmering of lights on inside the buildings. I went out for breakfast around nine so I could get some studying done before work, and the utter silence that followed me up the streets was both eerie and comforting . . . I crossed 3rd street without seeing a single car. The lights were changing without anyone to change for. If it wasn't for all the green, and the fact that I could smell the grass and rain-perfume, I might have been creeped out. Visions of dead cities and all that.

The student building was especially otherworldly. Not a soul in sight nor sound, and then as I approach, blinking rain out of my eyes as I crane to look at the clock, it starts tolling ten times. Inside, the bells are echoing off the locked doors and empoty halls . . . no one was there, no one, and did you know they lock parets of it off with stell grating? I didn't.

Strange something in the air today. I love it.

Final commissions list. Thanks, guys!

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