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  • The days are getting long again, a time to wave goodbye to patio heaters and scarf’s. On my recent return, I was sure London would welcome me back into her bosom, take my money and offer me a place to rent in return. Instead it’s left me stranded, sofa surfing, again. As such, and much against my better judgement I swing by the blood-sucking Casino too regularly of late. A place to waste hours, ruin livers and play risk with ones sense of right [or wrong]. Sometimes when I come out, it's close to 5AM and the sky looks like this. It's too late to call friends or old lovers so I sit and watch early commuters scurry for no good reason, listen to expensive high heels click along in sync with those who use the bridge to parade themselves; walking heads down, their eyes are sunken and demeanours preoccupied. These cat walk car crashes I recognise - Roulette table, London Bridge - faces, exactly, the same.
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