Friday, April 1, 2011

london sightseeing

brushing off the lower part of his left sleeve the man steps off of a train. his hat blocks the glare of the unclouded Sun while he checks with his swatch. the time exactly.

smoothing down his tie, the man clears phlegm from his lungs and is ready. he is a man, with a chest that hurls itself towards the mighty sky above.

whenever possible wear a nice suit. the suit, makes the man. the man had learned this from his mother; mothers have such a way with their sons. don't be soft. use a firm handshake: if you place two fingers on the inner wrist (over the pulse) of the person you are shaking hands with they can not over power your hand.

each direction the man turns there is another person, another after man, another, enough that he must simply look through them, as if to be walking in a city of glass figures, remarkably delicate and with a brutal spirit inside.

ignore them he thinks, grateful he chose to wear thick socks.

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