Sunday, 3 June 2012

The Revellers


You’d think from the sounds outside my window that a tribe of ancient warriors
are coming, whooping and wailing down the street. Or someone’s being murdered.
It can go like this, sometimes. Saturday night revellers trying to make it home 
without any idea of the impression they are making on, for example, this writer 
wondering where his next line is going to come from.



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