Two days of sticky stinking heat. I’m a rain-dog, an island dweller,
mister mouldy. Need the feel of a cool breeze so I can breath,
moisture in the air so these these limbs aren’t swollen sluggish
with rancid heat.
Up London the streets around stations are smeared with the promise
of diseases. Touch nothing, shake no hand. If you drop it leave it,
walk away or disinfect it in a bucket over night.
Stayed in a hotel near Euston, room smelled of cheap perfume & body
odour, but the windows opened – luxury & noise. Breakfasted on
tv gloom-n-fear, porridge, tea, notebook, pen, a few minutes of
gentle respite & meditation before stepping into the furnace of
the sun. Train North to Manchester, air conditioned.
Walk the streets, alive, a camera, notebook, pen, mapping journeys,
looking for a place to build a temporary home next year.