The angel
Sunday, September 11th, 2005Parked on the drab dank, harsh steps of Waterloo Station, deviding up a benson and hedge cigerette infrimth a boyfriend. This Saturday night is full of rejected drunks, and this time, we’re not the drunkest; in compariosn we are doing quie well. Lost, paranoid foreigns try and pertend we don’t exist —a few ask […]
