Poisons: Murder She Wrote

The following clip shows the bleaching effect that poisons thrown at me, while I was taking a shower at a public facility off Victoria, London, had on successive trouser legs. I noticed the damage done to my trousers that was nothing like I had ever seen before in my entire life, especially with trousers that touch the ground as I walk. The material does tend to get damaged and shredded over time, and there is some discoloration, but never have I worn new pants that got bleached in one go.



The two pairs of trousers shown in this clip, that were both black, were all new and made of 100% cotton. The first one bleached on both sides, the marks becoming progressively larger until the pants were completely spoilt, while the second, bought at a period when I was careful not to let my body come in contact with the floor while taking my shower, were damaged on one side.

Note in the picture how whole the lines still are. A day later, the discolored part was shredded.

I am a sentient being, of course, and I do have a healthy head on my shoulders, so it was easy to note the painful sensations in my feet after every visit to this place, and localize it to the shower. The sensations, sometimes of a dull pain or mere discomfort, were also strange, unlike the normal pains one is bound to get in the feet, for example after a sprain or as a result of too much walking.

There were abnormal, suspicious activities going on at the place that were not unique wherever I went in the city, that included people following me around, rumors, true or false, that were about physical states that had been caused by attacks, rumors that were may not have been false in themselves, but became so when it transpired they were being spread through one ethnic minority, an idiotic thing to do since I interacted with every group and could ascertain this fact. At the location where my trousers got bleached, the clients would look out of place, and I was followed to and from the shower, to and from the canteen, and anywhere else that I went in the building. Words were also uttered by those I identified as the handlers as they got more and more confident they could blurt out anything with impunity.

Once, while in the canteen, a drunk polish man, short on cash and desperate (now that I think of it), was all over my case acting weird. Here I was, feeling the ultimate bait coming on, when some small headed English man made a reproachful, indirect remark that was a command to restrict attacks to the shower (rather than risk the possibility of exposure to those who were not in the know). The immediate reaction of the Polish man confirmed what I thought the handler was saying.

Previously, I had began to feel I was surrounded, that everybody around me was masquerading as normal everyday people, and the implied fear of exposure in those words made me realize things were not as bad as I had imagined. Not yet, at least.