Personal Blogs

The sky was the lightest of light blues, where it met the horizon it was a washed-out washed-out lemon flecked-red. Cut-out seagull silhouettes floated amongst the shebangs of squabbling pigeon flocks. The canal was in the process of becoming frozen. In an odd way.

It looked like it had frozen and then had been mashed up—a crazy straight-edged 3D jigsaw of polygons. I assumed that a barge had gone through. But as I walked on I began to doubt this. There were places where it was just beginning to freeze and the pattern was repeating; it was seven of a Saturday morning, nobody normal was moving a barge.

I squatted down and had a think and a fag.

Water is funny stuff, I don't suppose that we'll ever understand it. What occurred was that I was interested, stupid arse that I am I still ask questions. All I ever had is the need to know.

On my hunkers, looking at a canal, spouting smoke into the vacumn and pondering ice in the huge silence of a strange dawn.