Southern gothic. I have become my own deeply flawed, disturbing, and eccentric character obsessed with train tracks and staring into the darkness of old houses. Eccentric in physicality tall and spitting out sentences like an auctioneer. Identifying with characters who consume dirt, abortions, incest, derelicts, sinister events meaning nothing. Magic and reality begin to blur in the decay of my small hovel working, working, to overcome poverty having meandered past the crime and violence. Setting becomes a small town yet not with small minds a collective of educated and non-educated, east and west, dichotomous musings seen in murals downtown where a recent fire burned into the downtown landscape now bearing the black scars of undisclosed causes. gutted. Place turning into a magical realist realm exploring the privilege centers of the town on the east and the economically marginalized on the west, disassociated from the power discourse somehow influenced by the past, panting and grasping at pants on bent knees unable to catch up to what is envisioned as modern. Northern gothic.