Status Updates From Đêm Chile

So far, a beautiful, fever-dream of a dying priest suffering with a severe case of ressentiment. In the Nietzschean sense.

Sometimes, trembling with cold, I would go to a soda fountain and order a Bilz. I would sit on a bar stool and gaze all misty-eyed at the droplets running down the surface of the bottle, while somewhere inside me, a bitter voice was preparing me for the unlikely spectacle of a droplet climbing up the glass, against the laws of nature, all the way up to the mouth of the bottle.