CRACK THE LIGHT:
Light breaks out from cracks between buildings. Red brick streaked with fifties shoot stains, white concrete balcony washing lines. Students lean across tables, to the hiss of Italianesque coffee boilers, exchange excitement, talking French with fat double basses, bagged & struggled through doors in skinny jeans. All the girls are ripped above the knees, curling finger hair, catching their reflections in the black glass eyes of cocktail bars, softening the blow with a promise of ‘art’ where Dali fingers his moustache – flogging anything for money.