Rev. Odyssius Thwackinbusch and I decided that we would collaborate on this task, despite it's relative simplicity. This is because way back in the day, the two of us, along with another comrade in arms, would often climb a private parking garage in the dead of night and chill on the rooftop overlooking a small portion of Pasadena.

Although we are one man short of our original trio, we still decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to relive our old adventures and plant a page of significance atop this concrete beast. So with camera in hand, we made our way to the structure.



We reached the entrance to our memory lane, maneuvered around through the entrance and past the security station, and made a beeline for the slope to the second floor. Mind, we would have taken the stairs from the first floor, however the stairs were, at the time, locked from the ground.

Once up the stairs, I snapped a shot of the desolate rooftop.



We made our way to the old vine-covered chill spot, and planted our note.

The note, while slightly illegible, reads:

Dear Parking Garage,
A good few years ago you gave us something special. You allowed us to bask in the warmth of your fluorescent lights, and to take in the sweet air of exhaust and rubbish. You gave us true elation in the night of milk, vodka, and excessive eyeliner. Joy sprung forth from our loins as we urinated on your blessed concrete bosom.
You were our sanctuary. When the world oppressed us, we could run to you, drink in your peace, and look towards a brighter dawn.
The shining three is no more, the triad has dissolved, but you shall remain as testament to what was once great.

Sincerely,
Black Coyote
Rev. Odyssius K. Thwackinbusch