The jackets of an older man now seated, the best way he can. On a Sunday in winter, a park, the coat no longer warm. No attitude for there is no one to impress, not that there ever was. Mortality breeds indifference to all matters living, the sky is roughly going about its business above clouds. For now I suppose that it will rain, to be expected but I sit one leg over the other. I’m pleased it is not likely I will be recognised by anyone other than maybe another. As solitary as i guess we are in preparation for journeys unknown. i
I don’t seek company of and the company, that ever was, is not looking for me. Divided we are in a storm of opinions that in reality masquerade as a friend, individuals all know best. and are blind to what is going on. Amen grey coat and hat move on someone else wants your seat.