bedranglled angle
Monday, August 29th, 2005Slumping on the lonely dank, drab plateform of Kings Cross station, deviding up a fag with her lover. This Sunday nighttime is scattered with drunken bums, and for once, we are not quite the drunkest; nor do we smell the worse. Late-night, parenoid tourists try and pertend we don’t exist —a couple smile. We are […]
