Wednesday 28th January

150128

SONG TO THE FUTURE:

Riding in the back of another night taxi through the
old Eastern sector, deserted streets. Another M.O.R.
underscore, another Man salon, lights off, dormant for
the dawn, another abandoned corner. The words,
‘Hair Finger’ whisper in my head, I don’t stop to question,
write them down, sing them to the future.

(K)

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