I could hear the violins screeching ..spitting musical notes, splitting solstice sunshine…accompanied thankfully by .........a gentle breeze …aiding the heavenly bodies play...carefree for their holiday fortnight
But there too, was detritus testimony of last nights human interaction, strewn campo wide. The hypodermic of youth, a condom of surprising caution and other early year pleasure domes.
Underneath the tresses of Rasta styled hair…a skin colour of bruised orange and pitted complexion was telling a tale of hard years difficulty…unsmiling past with unpromising future.
Wearing a home made psychedelic print cheesecloth as her fashion statement and date stamp…..
To be continued…
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