Zinfandel : Impressions
P. R. 's week-end in Zinfandel was coming to a close, the buzz of the Big City was getting too loud for her country girl's ears. She was ready to leave, with a jumble of impressions stored in her mind (and camera). First : clean, that city is clean, Switzerland-like clean. Even both its dumps are clean, though they partly process the garbage of Eden Bay -- there has been talk of closing the big one down, P. R. has been told. Which would be silly, so the Mayor stands firm. But at least people really don't mind living near them.



Or close to the waterworks, for that matter :


The East Market rail station :

The Mayor's posh mansion, near the regal City Courthouse :

The bunkery City Hall, with the Central Balthazar Market, and the university


Central Station by night (Nocturnals can have a drink there at any hour, it never closes.)

And that's from there that P. R. not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, went back to Kathy Vale... going... going... gone -- she snored all the way back and almost missed her stop.


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