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Here is the edge of everyone. The weight of an entire state passes overhead, rushing to and from the Great Place to Get Lost. You can smoke a million cigarettes here and die of lung cancer seven times in a day before the fog rolls in and your story will be the same as everyone else’s. Just be sure to get out of the taxi before the Russian couple gets you in their apartment and start cooking crepes. If you don’t, your story will then be very different. But that’s another story to be told on another day about the Great Place to Get Lost.
And that’s what they want you to do. Get Lost.
The signs on the fence say it all.
