Friday, 2 March 2007


In a delapidated park in the Old Kent Road, on a day that had started sunny but was now cloudy and turning damp, the front trees were surrounded by daffodils, brightly cheerful in the dim surroundings. Old concrete planters with dark shrubs lined up along the back walls. A blossom tree in pink hung over the wall from a garden behind. And in the mossy, grey darkness towards the back a man barbequed his dinner sitting on a low bench. A lick of smoke curling up through the trees.

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