Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up


Dreams and the street outside

I am lost in India... I am lost in this dream... incomprehensibly vast, vastly incomprehensible... A mad network of Goan train stations with Portuguese names... Potholed highways cutting through jungle forest... I am searching for something in an incomprehensibly huge place...

Emerge blinking into the sunshine in the street... Scummy, half-way elegant but wearing 5-day-old clothes... Drug-dealing here is an incomprehensible business, a game of glances and strange little gestures down the street... I don't understand anything... Walk up and down the street looking for the man... Weird Maroccies hiss at me from shadows, call me il Portoghese for some reason... Why can't this be easy like in London?