Whilst on my journey home after a pointless night at the boozer the bus had come to an abrupt halt as a little further up the road were lots of police cars and an ambulance was trying to cut its way through traffic. Interestingly the location for this event happened to be good old Brixton. As I approach the scene of what looked like an accident, that the way the young fellow looked and given that it was Brixton that he'd been shot. As I continued further to walk to get another bus I felt mortified about my own conclusion. What evidence did I have to arrive at this conclusion, and all I had were a bunch of statistics that I had read earlier in the year. I felt full of shame...until that is I heard other people muttering that they heard sounds of gun shots. In a twisted kind of way, that made me feel a little better.
On a final note. I remember having a pleasant conversation with a pleasant french man. But I was probably talking a load of bollocks.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment