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About Leicester

So, I’m out dere, diggin’ for a gal, right? Da night’s dark, air’s thick, smells like coal and cheap perfume. I see her—red lips, tight skirt, leanin’ on a lamppost. “How happy is da blameless vestal’s lot!” I mutter, like in da movie—damn, she’s no angel, tho! I laugh, big Arnold laugh—HASTA LA VISTA, boredom! She winks, I swagger over, flexin’ a lil—gotta impress, ya?

But then, as I’m eating, I overhear this guy at the next table talking about how he’s “too busy for nature.” I’m like, “Bro, you’re missing out!” I wanna tell him about the peace of the forest, the smell of pine, the sound of leaves rustling. But I just nod and keep eating.

A triangular community: how Author brings generations together at King’s Cross