That night the Transamerica Pyramid building was a fucking church for me. Plus, I was sure in that mole there had to be a chapel, for godchrist. So at the top of the hill, I looked intensely at it, trying to remember the words that you are supposed to say to god or God. It seemed that looking intensely and standing up at the same time was something my body in heels and my drunk blood just couldn’t succeed at... So I walked next to a car and juggling I took off my killer heels. But at that moment, just as I did with the rest of the world, I hated them so so much that I threw them down the hill, breaking in the process a 350 bucks heel (proportional part of the fucking pair of shoes price…), an action I could have regretted the morning after in my hangover state if I didn’t give a shit about it...

I remember I shouted, loud, and if I hadn’t been that drunk I would have realized that some windows lighted and surely there was an angry old lady looking at me with her hair hat on...
But I just could look at the Transamerica Pyramid building that in my head was like a giant cypress and the rest of the city an endless cemetery.

You. Were. Gone.