And When I Sleep, Luella. [xii]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

Looking out the no one looks in glass. Inside, warm. The music, the space - the same shape, the same mass. Everything inside, defined. Everything outside, blurred. There is motion. There is stillness. They didn't speak. They travelled west. They stayed the night at a Travel Lodge in Meredith. Dizzy and Lemons playing the machines … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [xii]

And When I Sleep, Luella. [xi]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

The snorkel parka comes off and Letitia rolls a sleeve. She plunges a hand into the water and sometime later scoops out a fish. She pushes it into her mouth with two hands and scrabbles around for the brew can. Dizzy gags. Lemon giggles. Fish reaches down the sofa, mighty pleased. Draws out the package … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [xi]

And When I Sleep, Luella. [x]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

Fish is the weed and whatever man, says Dizzy. Dizzy's your regular subway boy looking up. Whatever, man, says Fish. There's a glass tank busy with goldfish. Hence the name, she supposes. Fish has a stash of nice and nasty treasured down the side of his sofa. Fish looked upon her. Weighed her. So, you've … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [x]

And When I Sleep, Luella. [ix]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

Slipping between browsers at Borough market, she pretended an interest in literature, in homeware and clothes, in vinyl. Her hand dipped foreign pockets. Some coins, receipts, some lint. Some nothing. She was counting again the coins in the underpass, handing lint alms out with receipts to the breeze, when - Aight, Letitia. You lookin cold, … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [ix]

And When I Sleep, Luella. [viii]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

The blear of legs, Queen Street. She sat sucking can, taking hand down, some pocket job, jerk work, crumb of brown. Cigarette, coin, nothing for hours. Then nothing for hours but soup and shit sandwich. Violence, advice and compromise. She sat the step of the one-stop shop. Sometimes slept there. Squatted New Cross. One day … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [viii]

And When I Sleep, Luella. [vii]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

Later, he gave her coins, coffee and direction off the yard. Unfamiliar city street. Spat on tarmac. Hounds' crap in mounds. Remnants of plastic bags pennant the choking trees. Hard lips and hard eyes and spray painted hatred. Thin drinkers and fat eaters. Detritus and, shoulder to shoulder, District and Circle, bowed, escalator eyes and … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [vii]