It's a weird old world that you can walk past something a thousand times (more than, I suppose, if I were to calculate) and then one day you look at it with fresh eyes, despite battling hailstones and you think, man what used to be in there, what's that for and I could do something with that.
I love those moments.
Now it'll never be a dirty, grey building that seems to go on forever ever again, it'll either be the story I wrote, the story I considered writing, and probably the I know what the freak lives behind those black windows and I should run.
Almost Christmas folks. Eat, drink, be merry. I hope 2012 is a beautiful year. Or just a fun one. God, I need some fun.