The ghost of 1951 hails a cab in the rain.His mac is heavy with water and his shoulders slumped, weary with the weight of the world. The cab drives through the gloom; bright neon signs wave through the windows, distorted by cascading rivulets of water, but he just stares past them. It's spam and egg for tea again tonight. Just. Marvelous.
(
Mu Dinofiddler,
Thu 23 May 2013, 16:45,
archived)
yummers!*grab knife and fork*
(
ivesb Highly specialised Clinical Physiologist crapbag,
Thu 23 May 2013, 18:05,
archived)