I drink hot coffee and write. I eat the lunch I didn’t have then for dinner now. It tastes off but it’s easier than preparing something else. Outside the wind is colder than expected. Huddled in a piss-stained corner I smoke a cigarette. I haven’t always been alone.
Lovers in swan shaped boats paddle along the canal. The late afternoon sun shimmers on the surface. Hordes of people wander the banks in various states of undress. They walk dogs and hold hands and hurriedly eat ice cream before it drips down the cone. Simple pleasures cure the lives we lead.
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