The burden of the late-night

Offline. Old school. Anti-surveillance state. No one remembers exactly when, but our bathrooms became the city's most reliable source for a certain type of information. They're some combination of an underground anarchist tabloid, a political rumor mill, a collage of the unspoken: backroom signatures, illicit deals-made, night whispers.

But just stop it, ok?

Paint gets really f*ckin expensive after a while, you know?

Ah but I don't mind. Why make this page if I minded? Between paint jobs, I hope someone special left you a message or you get an experience of the uncanny. If the bar is on the threshold between worlds, the bathroom is the secret in the enigma. Find something disturbing? I'm sure someone here will be interested to know