Early in the summer it was those two junkie kids. I didn't know them well, but everyone I knew well did.
Then this boy on cocaine and mushrooms jumping from the bridge. Well, no one expected that. Except maybe the people who gave him the shit. They even said that would be the last festival because of not enough public support. Maybe the finality of things got to that kid and he realized no more festival, no more life. Eventually any living organizm not nurtured enough dies. The truth is, in that neighborhood, if you're not expecting some one to let life get the better of them, you're not paying attention. Every year since living there, I lost some one I knew or remotely knew.