Tuesday, March 23

lime street, midnight

seagulls hover in some draft above the roof of the station, like lonely shreds of white confetti.
I start tallying. in the end it will come to a total of six aircraft, eight busses, and fourteen different trains (not counting the underground ones).
taxis line the road, all lit with sleepy, patient monotony. a few of the drivers stand, smoking, grumbling, yawning, off to the side.
here was the beginning. and the beginning of the end.

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