sunday, 4am, i woke up to the sound of a girl crying hysterically, shrieking and screaming at the top of her lungs. there was a male voice that followed close behind her muttering "shut up bitch." based on what i could understand, the two likely knew each other. in what context, i don't know.

but the female voice was not yelling for help, just crying uncontrollably and pleading for the man to let go of her. i stayed in bed, paralyzed, not sure if i was having one of those fucked up half-awake hallucinations. you hear a lot of shit on market street. this wasn't your average crack rock conversation. i tried to get it out of my head and go back to sleep. this proved fairly unsuccessful.

sunday, 7pm, i was walking home from the powell station. i generally walk fairly fast and avoid contact with people. i started noticing hair pins and broken lip gloss containers on the sidewalk. as i crossed 5th there were more and more items. hair bands, makeup brushes. "that's funny..." i thought, noticing essentially all the contents of a makeup bag strewn about the street. i didn't think about it further until i reached my block and saw the shredded back of a dress on the mid-block and the zipper ripped out lying under the awning of my building.

these two instances could be entirely unrelated. all i know is i generally try to avoid reading the police blotter. but the curiosity and horror is killing me.