Day 95

It’s Camden you need to get off at, I say to you when you ask. Your girlfriend is drunk and gazing blankly around the carriage. I like her for her aquamarine eyeliner and sun-bleached hair. You ask me questions and say you’re from Sydney. She is stressed,  briefly, because you’re late. I assure you that you’ll be fine for time, though I have no idea where you are heading. When we step off the tube, the ambition of your aim is infectious. I also speed towards the next train, desperate to meet my deadline of no time and doesn’t matter.

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