Wednesday, August 03, 2005

One thing I love about London transport is a) the fact that it's working again and b) the poetry that is sprinkled around everywhere. Don't subscribe to the stupid rule that says you have to find your favourite poems in a small, dark cupboard shop in Morocco, handed to you by a wise beggar whose dying moments you spent conversing in the finer points of Cocteau. That's bollocks. This is why that's bollocks.

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