description of a place

for vanishing point

HERE IS THE PLACE: the blackened face of a nondescript apartment block. Vines suturing the cold wrought iron of a fire escape—like wires holding shut a busted jaw. You, late at night, passing over its image like dust caught in the sclera, or a kind of myodesopsia. It is not quite on the corner, this old face, since the sidewalks, far from orthogonal, converge on a singular point: an insular simplex of concrete. (You wonder whether it would disappear if you looked at it from the right angle: folds of space washed away by the gridlock of the city...)