10 October 2012
Sunday Morning, Walking to the coffee shop
Some observations...
Everyone looks like they have drowned: pale and weary, hungover still perhaps.
The slow march to buy coffee goes on.
The only people who are wide awake are the drug dealers at the end of the road. Their bottomless sports bag can fix anyone up real quick. They smile and chat in their 1990s-style tracksuits. Some of them are bopping away to the music being played by the stereos of the ex-addicts sheltering in the YMCA nearby.
The bus stop has been freshly smashed and the pavement is speckled with sizzling puke and beer cans.
A hipster who looks like he works in the Apple store walks by, his expensive headphones blaring out some rap.
I may be wrong, but I think there may have been a snowstorm last night, with the difference being that the snow was replaced with cigarette butts.
Students zip around. The semester has only just begun, so they are still trying to look decent, but that will change soon enough.
Clumps of used chewing gum harden on the concrete in the morning air.
There is a woman who thinks a great deal of herself. She has a voice that could split concrete... I wish she shut up
Everyone keeps their eyes to the ground. A sense of imminent despair lingers like a ghoul.
Sunday Morning... • Opuss № I