Monday, 8th July 2013

Saturday night.
Two birthday gatherings on one day. A mini pub crawl. Bowling. Last trains missed. 1 too many people for the taxi. Bottle of wine and an East London pavement to house on. Shared words and wine and cigarettes with a man and his begging girlfriend. Poor man almost cried when I asked him about his past "Don't make me think of sad things, I can't think of sad things". A battery dead phone. A £25 taxi on a gamble to an insomniac friends house. An answer. What a saviour. No sleep, emotionally frayed, unworthy guest. Broken phone cable. Work. £1 in bank account.
Home. Sleep.