it was nighttime. avenida revolución ran like a mad electrical river after a downpour. i couldn't tell if it was tomorrow or the day donitz surrendered to the allies. i had nothing in my flat but a mattress with white sheets, a kitchen table and the ancient moldy bathtub. the building was silent as usual, since they closed the picture theater anyways. i'd slept all morning. the guy who killed trotsky slept in too once here after a long night of conspiring and sweating and dreaming everything went wrong and he got killed himself or real red revolution was permanently stalled. the elevator guy wasn't there. i closed the door myself and looked at the pink and purple xmas lights surrounding the miniature virgin on the corner. i hit the groundfloor, walked out and the street was suddenly empty. the only person in sight was the girl behind the sleepy green-tinted counter of the 24h café shanghai, staring at the goldfish tank under the aluminum dragon/ventilation duct. as i walked away, the ermita seemed to bend down little by little, crumbling on top of me.