I know I’m grinding my teeth. My eyes are darting about like panicked flies. I can’t stand still. My head is boggling with mental arithmetic. I want to boot up the HSBC app, but I can’t. Not here. I’m in a small but expensive shop… Read More
Something about a nine litre bottle of Whispering Angel. Someone says, “calanques.” An endless coach ride. Irregular paving stones. A fountain chatters in the darkness. Waiting for the lift. Why is the carpet covered in Tyrells? There’s a nobility in drunkenness. Particularly in France. But… Read More
