The hiss of taxi tyres brings me to the surface.A clubber heading home to bed? It does not take much to wake me these nights. I gently patter to the ensuite as the rain gently patters on the window. In the distorted darkness below, yesterday's washing hangs like sad, forgotten poltergeists.
I am awake.
I will write.
I think better in pencil.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
something about the small hours,good for writing
ReplyDelete