The world’s on a street, on a string, running at incomprehensible speeds- well it’s a 30 zone but it might as well be a highway for the kids- those who pray on their knees on Sundays to please their mothers.
*Mouthing lyrics against the pillow your lips skimming the linen, the blinds are half cut letting light in, highlighting your out-of-the-bed foot. Alarm clock call was late as we relied on the front desk, the telephone wire twisted behind cavity wall green, so we wake together to inner city rooster roar with the traffic tearing past and the cafes opening up to more coffee drinkers and business smokers. We’ll get our to-go coffees in a spree of NFC later, watch sons saying to dads that they need to go wee and start our day again with a hotel cup of tea.