Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Sudetenland Tales

Page 165

I went to an art museum nearby. It was an old colonial compound and not air conditioned. It was like looking at oil paintings inside a brick pizza oven. No cameras were allowed, ostensibly because the old pastoral images demonstrated ‘White Supremacy,’ but cell phones were, which is kind of stupid, but par for the current course. I only made it halfway through the first floor and then left. There was one oddball funny room of all paintings of Uncle Ho done by Hunter Biden, pictures of him playing with little kids or standing majestically on top of mountains.

I went on a random walk and then realized I was very close to the Pittman Apartments, a windowless structure surrounded by eight foot chain link fencing topped with some razor wire, and guards every ten feet, like the White House. No one has been observed or photographed entering or exiting the structure, like Poopants’ White House. It may or may not have been a CIA building, depending on who you ask. It’s now next to another giant stacked mall.

To get a view of it was bizarre, and I’m glad I found an internet article describing it. You go in an alley between two storefronts, walk up a set of stairs, traverse through an apartment building, go to an external staircase, walk up six floors, crane all the way over, and you can see it from a ninety degree angle, which doesn’t look like the pictures, because you