A rebel without a clue.

If you happened to see a ghost how could you be sure it was a ghost? Other than approaching the ghost and asking, quite politely, 'are you a ghost?' If you let that ghost walk by then you could never know for sure. If you were to ask someone you thought was a ghost if they were a ghost, and they weren't, what expression would that person take? I see lots of people close to death, but today I watched a ghost cross from the County Arcade to the Thorton Arcade. The clue that led me to believe this man was a ghost was the locomotion employed to cross the distance of those 30/40 feet and his pale and shadowy persona. I am looking at other people in the same space, but they don't maintain that same corpse distinction. The greyness and the physically tinged aspect.

I left the flat for Starbucks, on Street Lane, but I had to leave very shortly after only a solitary grande mug of their Café Estima Blend® and a brownie. Suffering from no internet I walked back to the flat through what I have decided to call 'dogshit alley' on the Roman's Estate. It is called The Romans locally, but its actually turn of the 20th century suburbia which becomes a 1950's council estate in the north end before trailing off into a mucky park known locally as The Bumps where there is more of the sporadic dog shit; I live on the otherside. I don't think calling it the Roman's does it any justice as it feels foetid and dirty, unusually for Roundhay it is more Gypsy than Ravenna. Personally I have no issues with using parks perimeters/edges as dumping grounds for dog faeces, but I hate having to hop along a path between steaming piles, from gap to gap, hoping I haven't missed one that will lead to a comical end (back in 1985 I remember falling ...