a virus. spreads indecently. you told her to nevermind the chickens but instead she came every day for the eggs. bright yellow yolks. I told you, since we were children, she has had an addiction for eggs. and the chickens require company. a friendly word. and you refuse to tell them jokes. I send them postcards, with little songs attached. but the point of this story is the virus. I am chasing it now. it's naked stench. passing over and beyond unknowing citizens. parts of it's scent lingers in every corner. and the corners are multiplying. you think the chickens are hard work. we're going to need them to survive. please stay on good terms with the chickens. the virus crumbles streets. makes its victims weak, at risk for crime, without basic necessities. there may be no cure. the landscape is falling.