There is smoke here, drinks everywhere and conversation ranging from quiet talks in crowded corners to boisterous loudness and extraversion in the corridor. People are milling around, everyone is on some kind of mission.
Green is the only game being played, cannabis fumes fill my nostrils and the eyes I look into are hazed. As I make my way around, people smile and smirk, laugh out loud, greet me, and eye me. I feel good in this place, I feel a buzz in this place, and I have space with this folk.
I left my heart in one of the rooms next to a painting; it was a landscape, a small building on a hill at sunrise, somewhere in Italy by a lake. I got lost with my fellow astronauts, petting the cat, watering the plants, lost in my thoughts.
A year on the Broad Red Avenue (2003)
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