Year of twelve. The summer of storms. The sky flashes with sharp white light as thick heavy rain pounds the streets below. A soft cool breeze makes the air easier to breathe yet at moments sends the slightest of shivers down my naked spine. The Sun’s light is filtered by a blanket of grey while a hint of blue suggests what colour may be on the other side.

It’s 3pm, I’ve missed lunch and light up another cigarette to hide my appetite. With a mouthful of coffee I listen to the water pour down the side of the building and think: I’m not going anywhere today.


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