First you cry, and then you cry. You get on a metro and go where it takes you. You leave your phone behind and go around the city alone. Get on a bus and get lost in the sounds: of traffic, of music. Jump in potholes, get your shoes dirty. Walk on the sidewalk, walk with grace. Let your hair down, let the wind untangle your knots. Go get a piercing, go try some street food. Count the red cars, then count the blue: one two three, one two three; make a wish, make another. Sit in cafes, sit on rocks, take polaroids. Run, run, run till you’ve conquered every street, every raindrop, every shadow under every lamp post. Tell every corner, “I was here, I was here.”
One step, then another, you come back home. You come back slowly, you come back calm. Play some music, your hands in the air, close your eyes and dance. Then change the song, lay still on the floor.
First you cry, and then you laugh. Then you laugh, and then you laugh.
Eric Jackson said in his interview that they were filming at least part of the video at his house, located at 7259 W Laurel Pl.
Compare the houses:
Dylan running from Eric Jackson’s house to Dustin Gorton’s car from the video:
(What used to be) Eric Jackson’s house:
They then went to Burger King at 6797 W Ottawa Ave.
First they went down Laurel Place to Fairview Drive, which turns into Webster Street (that’s the suburbs for you!), then turned right onto Ken Caryl Avenue, then left onto Pierce Street, finally right onto Ottawa Avenue to the Burger King. (This route is fairly obvious from the landmarks seen in the video, if one is familiar with them.)
Turning from Webster St. to Ken Caryl Ave. Note the big pile of snow on the ground even in late April!
Same approximate location on Ken Caryl Avenue in the summer–pretty dull, really, not much to see but trees and wood fencing…
Turning from Ken Caryl Ave. onto Pierce St. Note the bank on the corner.
The restaurant is roughly about a mile (1.5 km) from Columbine High School.
After getting their food, they continued north along Pierce St. to Columbine at 6201 S Pierce St.
Columbine is visible on the left.
I hope you enjoyed this tour of the suburban Littleton/Columbine area with your guides Dylan Klebold, Dustin Gorton, Eric Jackson (and me, I guess…).
“It seems the whole world is in mourning of the Gothamite,Tim Drake, pronounced dead late last night…”
No explosions, no gunman, no assassins, just a drunk driver. No heroic act that saved the universe, just a large black truck barreling down the street. Ear piercing shrieks and blood curdling screams, wads of ebony black hair and tires plastered with dried blood. Sickening sounds of a cracking skull as the as the drunk drove further over the young man’s head. He heard it, he saw it. He witnessed everything.
Urgent news worldwide, a symbol of hope in Gotham had died. A funeral, all guests dressed in luxury. No one cared, no one really did. They got it wrong, all the police reports and the media. No one was there. No one else watched him die.
The inscription on his gravestone, covered in thick vines of poison ivy, leaving it near impossible to read the few words made to strike pity in the hearts of those who visited. Not that anyone did, his family or his friends. They pretended to grieve him, they pretended to care. They didn’t. No one cared and he knew it.
Running. Damian, sprinting towards the garden, tears streaming down his face. He was there, he saw it happen. It broke him.
Crashing in front of the tomb, cradling his head in his hands. He lost his will to go on, his motivation. “Justice, not vengeance” they told him. They did not understand, they would never understand. Damian Wayne had snapped, broken by his dying brother held in his arms.