We are working in an old millworks, behind the paint factory out near the airport over by the train tracks. The paintmen must be hard of hearing because we catch faint bits of instructions carried over the loudspeaker. The fence is too high, we can not see them. We seem to inhabit some strange middle land, open fields where factories used to be. We can’t quite tell if the hawk screech is real or just a loop played by the paintmen to frighten the rats.
Also - I think they let out more paint fumes at night.
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