There’s a spatter of stars fighting through the wet orange glow of the street lights, and he spins around as he looks up, his head back, his arms wide.
This is the way that he told it.
A flat grey building like it was made of cereal boxes and stickle brick throbs with noise and light.
05/08/2007 Image – “Lights At Night” by Richard Noble
That flash of white over by the trees.
She didn’t like to look at it.
African or Indian, just as long as she wasn’t English.