It is cold this morning, and perhaps it was cold yesterday morning? I have only really noticed it now. It is cold and when I woke, I pulled the sheet-less duvet to my ears and made a cocoon. When the grey light had got to my bones, I rose and went to make coffee from the ends of two price-cut bags. I stood at the kitchen window as the kettle boiled and watched the white-ness of the city sky-line through the scaffold bars. I breath very slowly and I haven't said a word yet. I take a large black woolen jumper from the basket of old papers and mail and sit on the floor by the coffee table cradling my cup to my chin. My cheeks pinken and I smoke.
I went to the point and had to use a different opening as the old one had been covered with new bars. The view was hazy to begin with but then it became clear and beautiful