She was ... Well, she was something. I couldn’t see her face with insane clarity but I could see her. She was tall- around six feet in fact. Her hai... was curly and matted. She moved with a lithe athleticism that suggested a life of constant motion.“Where are we?” she asked. In the relative quiet of the city scape, I could better hear her voice. It was a bit nasally, and very distinctly- thickly even- New York City. It was kind of cute. It added to her apparent sense of enthusiasm and. ‘You know, classic 70s horror schlock, devil child, nuns hanging themselves.’ This comment earned me a disparaging sniff from a thin, gray-haired woman who appeared to be prying meaning from a concentric set of orange octagons that had been created with electrician’s tape and then torn up using a parallel set of long, razor-sharp implements—or perhaps claws, I thought— that had shredded parts of the underlying canvas. ‘Hmm, werewolves no like dumb art,’ I muttered to myself. I had decided I. More

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