Lost in the madding crowd
There are still a few benches in the square, and here I am sitting, watching the crowd thronging back and forth. In and out of shops and clubs, pausing to admire this or that. Never suspecting that they themselves are being admired, or in some cases judged harshly for their numerous fashion faux pas.
Nothing so ordinary as spots with stripes, but the more outrageous crimes of leopard print with fluorescent pink. Or the hideous monstrosity that is the combination of fake tan and ugg boots.
But there is always balance, amongst the screeching harpies and strutting cocks a few quiet souls pass by. Striding, intent on their destination or ambling along just enjoying the warm evening. A saxophone solo echoes faintly off the building opposite, jazz curling like noodles around the smell of warm Chinese food...
Hello London, I'm back...
Nothing so ordinary as spots with stripes, but the more outrageous crimes of leopard print with fluorescent pink. Or the hideous monstrosity that is the combination of fake tan and ugg boots.
But there is always balance, amongst the screeching harpies and strutting cocks a few quiet souls pass by. Striding, intent on their destination or ambling along just enjoying the warm evening. A saxophone solo echoes faintly off the building opposite, jazz curling like noodles around the smell of warm Chinese food...
Hello London, I'm back...