The party was a rare case of going back. It seems, the ghosts I encounter with most frequency are those of memory. There, they were legion; vampires, punks, and try-too-hard-hipsters. I was invited. Baited, albeit unintentionally, for a trap.
Things change. Things stay stagnantly the same. Perhaps I am just too critical.
Someone said seeing me in an urban enviroment, so many years on, was the money shot. Legend. Apocrypha.
It was a fluke and invite; going back. Accidental time travel. See, as much fun as it could be to fuck with the quantum, the only constructive way is forward.