What if this hypocritical, idiotic, parasitic reality were a thin veneer for the actually bizarre just beyond our limited awareness of neighbourhood?
In the general office and staff rooms and library of a nearby school doubling as a community centre, lay outwards the backrooms of work buildings you cannot leave from to return from any more,
countless collections of books amongst whose shelves one is lost forever, or cabinets and tables of papers in files and folders where forgotten people are put away never to be remembered by those who care.
Or in the pigeon holes of public apartments, each household and family is an unthinkable horror home of mind demons and clutter jungles.
And re-created parks are where those who ritually exercise or assume naive relaxation, never written as their residence in communities are overwritten data, like software updates.