I’m looking backwards: old journals, old photographs, old notebooks. What strikes me above all is the vigour and energy I once took for granted. The following little descriptions I found in the same pocketbook. The first is an oddity because I have absolutely no recollection of the action being reported. It can’t be fiction or an idea for a piece of fiction because I relinquished that fantasy a very long time ago. It’s scribbled down in black ballpoint.
‘There’s Sophie and there’s Maddie at the moment. Sophie I met at a poetry reading. “Why are you wearing that tie?” she said. “Are you a bourgeois?”
“Why are you wearing that scarf?” I said. “Are you a Palestinian?”
“The Palestinians are the most oppressed people on earth,” she said. “Tell me about the tie.”
“Tie Rack,” I said. “Liverpool Street station. I like the colour purple.”
“Are you a reactionary?” she said.
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