...picked up on a long walk and carried home in your pocket
Tuesday, October 4
I watch him crossing the road - mid thirties, greasy blond curtains of hair, a huge black puffa jacket. When he gets to the corner he stops dead, for no apparent reason, and stands motionless with a blank face as if he's trying to keep his balance. I watch him for as long as I can and then turn away - when I look back he's gone.