Nathan Thompson

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Nobody seems frightened of next door happening though it is clearly very loud.

There is a man with a machine collecting decibels hoping to discover one as yet occult.

I have no idea how he orders his mind, always at the central effect of a rock dropped in a puddle.

“We have something for sale that we will not barbeque” threatens the topless lady I think is the ringleader.

She is shouting into the machine, and the collector puts his thumbs up and sheds a tear, before dropping it. It hits the ground at exactly the same moment as his tear.

I now have my discovery and will contact the journals in all haste.