Another sightseeing day. Zoic and I both have a love for downtown that is both difficult to describe and not entirely justified. It’s the nucleus in the center of a bloated and distended cell membrane. I’d like to say that there was culture there because I know I participated in my fair share of it, but it wasn’t always easy to find. Phoenix never cared much for the arts. People who moved here really loved the kitschy Indian shit (no, it’s not authentic) and the people who were already here were more concerned with what LA was doing, or New York. Mostly LA. I swear, we were a retirement community for former Los Angelinos. The arts we had were cool, but never really got the attention they deserved, nor the chance to grow and develop. So, I’m not entirely surprised by the amount of paint and artistic destruction that we saw. It seems that a small group went out in a blaze of glory and tagged as many buildings as possible. I guess it means that there were living people after the initial infection, but it’s difficult to say how long they lasted or if they’re still around. It’s quiet, though. Except for the low moans of the infection.

The artwork wasn’t anything special. It was probably more along the lines of an apocalypse fantasy, much like the things that Zoic and I have been doing. Nothing was incredibly detailed. It seemed like they might have just run through the streets with spray paint blasting. There was a phoenix painted on one building, though, to be honest, I can’t remember if that was there before.

The infection  was a little denser here, but not much. There was a parking garage between Jefferson and Washington that had more than its share of undead crowded around. There must have been something in there, but we weren’t about to go look. On the off chance that there were people who needed help, Zoic tossed a flaming bottle into the crowd and I sped away. If the fire spreads just right, it might clear out the mob. It’s been so long since the start that there’s likely no one down there anymore. What we’re seeing in the form of a mob is nothing more than a faint echo of past struggles.

We saw what we wanted to. Zoic scanned through the radio stations on the car. Nothing but static, again. Worth a check every once in a while.