The landlord said we have thirty days to move out. He didn’t say move. Move I could live with. It was the out that upset me. I started crying the moment I shut the door in his face. He’d called the apartment a pig-stye. I felt that was over reaching reality. Sure the walls were a little tainted from all the pot smoking Ziggy did but in truth the place was actually quite clean. The dishes were always washed and put away. There weren’t dirty clothes lying about. I couldn’t help the cockroaches they came with the building. I told Ziggy I felt totally insulted. Ziggy told me to smoke a joint and I’d be less unhappy. I told Ziggy he has gotten us into this mess. I told him we are expected to return the walls to their original white condition. Ziggy laughed and said he doesn’t do paint. He said he was going to find Stéfano and get some really good stuff. That it’s garbage like this that blackened the walls to shit.