Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Jah Rastafari

I go up Portobello Road for a quick drawing hit. Kili is drinking and smoking sociably under the Westway.


I shake my fixative spray too vigorously and the sea-green glass beads of my bracelet scatter. I gather up the ones I find. Gather. Last night I overheard this in the Army and Navy Club:
'Are your parents still alive?'
'No, they're gathered.'

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