London Is Like A Cold

A Room Is, After All, A Place Where You Hide From The Wolves. That's All Any Room Is.

It Was The Darkness That Got You. It Was Heavy Darkness, Greasy And Compelling. It Made Walls Round You, And Shut You In So That You Felt Like You Could Not Breathe.

Very Few People Change After Well Say Seven Or Seventeen. Not Really. They Get More This Or More That And Of Course Look A Bit Different. But Inside They Are The Same.

The Feeling Of Sunday Is The Same Everywhere, Heavy, Melancholy, Standing Still.

That Expression You Get In Your Eyes When You Are Very Tired And Everything Is Like A Dream And You Are Starting To Know What Things Are Like Underneath What People Say They Are.