Shrapnels from the Exterzone

"Vvar is like zee tip of zee cigar az you inhale. You have to admit, monsieur, dat it haz quite ze glow. How sad iz it dat vee don't have vars out here..."
, Alfred Enemies - 9:37 pm, armchair 217, Club of Agonizing Gentlemen, Unstreet Az-687 B .

It has successively and simultaneously been called Alter-native, The Great Muncher of Men, Opium of the Masques, Hideous Haven, Coccoon of Iconoclastes, but we, its cherished inhabitants, know it as Exterzone.

It appeared to me in a spiraling dark dream, to others in mazes of absinth and to some in the abysmal recesses of madness.

It is the city lost and found.

It is ours and we belong to it.

I will be your guide. Let us go astray.

CELL 58, Non-zero sum apartment building

Recursive architecture, working elevators.
A "The concierge is currently growing a new set of mandibles, please do not disturb" sign has been hanging from a rust-bitten door on ground level for the past few months.
An old man sits at the bottom of the stairs, saliva binding him to the flooring, staring beyond this world and into the next one. He sometimes mutter a vain death threat or some obscure curse.

_

Here's my flat. Mind the gaps.
The flesh has been growing in the kitchen for days... I wouldn't touch it if I were you. The skin is unclean.
Mind if I light myself a bulb... I haven't smoken in days. I need an electricity refill.
Electricity comes cheap, here. Kills a lot too. I shouldn't be showing you this...

Let's get some fresh air. I have a balcony with a view.
Come on.
No I... I'd avoid stepping on that, if I were you.

[ Exterzone - View from a balcony : jmaxduerr372.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/screensho... ]