He could have lived his life out in the shadows of impotence. He was an apartment house janitor and contact with others was always second-hand: the remnants of their lives in wastepaper baskets, suggestive letters dropped carelessly in balls, sometimes a crumpled, sexy photograph. His first impulse was to call the police. They were naked. So instead, he watched. And watched. And watched...
He could have lived his life out in the shadows of impotence. He was an apartment house janitor and contact with others was always second-hand: the remnants of their lives in wastepaper baskets, suggestive letters dropped carelessly in balls, sometimes a crumpled, sexy photograph. His first impulse was to call the police. They were naked. So instead, he watched. And watched. And watched...