All blue lit and blushing

  • Saturday, June 01, 2013
  • 0

Now get this, London calling, yes, I was there, too
And you know what they said? Well, some of it was true London calling at the top of the dial And after all this, won't you give me a smile? London Calling
I never felt so much alike.

The Clash.

What motivated her to run? Was it a snatch of conversation, something she read or a half forgotten friend? Whatever it was, she left behind her pink brolly and purple bra. She left her friends clutching bottles of wine and cold takeaway meals, and ran alongside the river, this girl of stunning luminosity, all blue lit and blushing with laughter tones like warm earth. She ran into the rain following in the steps of the Romans, The Saxons, the homeless, the bankers and the whores. She dodged tourists in ponchos and Londoners in their blacks and greys, their eyes as flat as dead fish. I'd love to know her, this incandescent girl with the ponytail. I want to know what she thinks. I want to run alongside and ask her endless questions of time and space. I want to dance over puddles with her. I don't know her. I do know she stopped. She stopped and turned her arches and her beak and ran back. She ran home, past the men who guard her door, Ja, howzit, shit weather hey? And she ran all the way up the stairs.

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