Nearing 10 pm on a Tuesday night that carries a cool breeze, two people walk to the middle of the white asphalt square that is surrounded by housing flats and a community centre. Each window seems to interrogate the square with their glinting glares. Bags of fruit and McDonald’s jostle with each other against their legs for the chance to break out first. But the two walk to the middle and stop. Can they lie down? Look to the left. Two groups of men, three per group, sit a distance away from them, dressed in casual black t-shirts and sports…










thewritexylophone

I see stories everywhere I go - its a lovely disease.

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