alex balk's livejournal
Yesterday afternoon, coming back from "lunch" at Shark Bar, I noticed a crowd clustered along Spring Street. A young man, probably in his early to mid-twenties, had apparently been hit by a car. His neck was bent at an odd angle, and someone was in the street with him holding a roll of paper towels, trying to mop up or contain the blood and viscera seeping from the back of his head. His eyes were rolling about in that way that eyes do when someone is dying.
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