Thursday, 22 July 2004

From Wells Terrace to Seven Sisters and Home

There's a tunnel that joins the entrances of the tube station, one section goes from Wells Terrace to Seven Sisters Road. Walking against the flow of traffic who are all coming up on the left-hand side of the barrier (keep left keep left printed everywhere) people pass me in flashes sort of like street lights passing overhead on the motorway. Glimpses of things pass the periphery of the eye, no full pictures.

Loud wharhol-esq Che Guevara shirt, old lady with dyed black hair, her husband behind her thick brown glasses glazed grin, platform flip flops talking to herself, pink hair and tights to match, trousers belted too high, coat with daisy buttons.

At the middle point there's a three way junction, aiming to go straight, having to dodge the people coming from the right passing over my path and moving to the left, steady stream. Man in a ticket box not collecting any tickets. Tunnel is lined with tiles that have been recently painted.

Weird blast of cooler air as pass out the other end.

Black boys, all dressed in all black, sitting in a parked black car. Blond dreadlocks sitting on top of a dustbin leaning against a lamppost. Purple and black braided hair, purple and black stripey tights.

The heat is heavy, I'm glad to get home and take off my shoes and dump my work bags.

Sitting here I can see a white swan and a grey signet on the canal.

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