Thursday 30th July



There’s a butter-wouldn’t-melt woman sitting in the window
dressed as Picasso with a punnet full of Summer Berries &
ears full of wires. She doesn’t order anything, bobs her
to a latin beat with distracted eyes, taking pictures of
the street with her cell phone. Girls in floral shorts
walk past, as shaved headed men drop their jaws, oblivious
to me watching.Tourists wearing Union Jacks walk loud for
pictures in the sun as the woman in the window takes a
long time to deposit something she conceals in the bin –
suddenly leaving. I’ve finished the porridge, the notebook
has eaten, there’s tea in the bottom of the cup. But that bin
worries me, I have a premonition, a tingling sensation,
packing up fast I leave.


3 thoughts on “Thursday 30th July

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