Driving late between there & here, following tail light trails
to sit by the river miles from here. Empty streets, only the
rhythm of stray paper scraps to dance to the beat of our feet.
Something sweet to ignite a thrill, counting stone faces, the
marks of time & passing, the generations recorded on the chaotic
facades of Ely cathedral. We drift back to the river, where it’s
no more quiet than anywhere here, slip orange paper bands around
our wrists to watch our friends Holden Girls‘ first gig of the
Who was on the lights tonight – the switcher?