The thick blankets of dirty grey snow are finally receded, revealing the streets of Providence glistening with dirty melt water and gritty with sand. I walked along today under the heavy grey skies, Easter Sunday, with churchgoers milling about church parking lots and posing outside the First Baptist in their finest clothes. They eyed me warily as I walked by, unshaven with jeans I’m sure I haven’t washed in a week or more, my brown ‘Miskatonic University’ hoodie torn in several places – I don’t remember how that happened, or when. They don’t trust me; probably even fear me, these upright citizens of Providence… I find that amusing, knowing the things I know, seeing the things I’ve seen. The things that exist in the darkest corners and underneath the ancient floorboards of this cursed city.