Open.
In Brighton this morning.
I can hear a road drill and seagulls.
The sun is coming through grey clouds slowly and a train sends a two-note blast a quarter of a mile away that echoes down the coast. Crows join the gulls. The drill clatters on.
I’m 2 teas into wake-up and thinking about walking along the beach.
I think I will walk the couple of miles or whatever to Brighton from Hove. I’m that kind of a strolling guy. My strolling GF would love this, but she’s teaching. Only a small bag to carry. Yes, I’m off that way.
The gulls call out again, in concert, more have arrived. Must be some particularly juicy curry remains, or a dead homeless person maybe.
No, I am being fraudulent. Brighton is not yet that savage that corpses in the street are ignored and left for the gulls. 11th March 2005. Let it be remembered.
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if i were a photogenic transient, i would stroll through and frame myself in each snapshot of a life lived so far away.
*waiving frantically* hey there trance! let’s meet up in Brighton, dump Deek and go for a walk
)