Head Space Daily Words...

With an unwanted Christmas present to be refunded, Patti Smith's autobiography, Just Kids, accompanied me to Shoreditch this morning. Life is getting back to normal this week. Random Christmas trees lie on pavements. Festive obstacles to be dodged. The jagged glass of an Islamic Centre's smashed window. A reminder of murder in Paris. Shame about the window I say to the Muslim man with a ginger beard, stood next to me. It doesn't matter, he replies. We go our separate ways. It matters to me but it won't stop us living side by side, in our city. Flashback Records has the CD of Horse by Patti Smith for four pounds. I'd like the vinyl I think and don't buy it. Brick Lane Beigel Bakery. Tuna, mayo and sweetcorn. Can of pop. On to Rough Trade. Tramp by Sharon Van Etten, in the bag. Need to get with it before I see her at Shepherd's Bush Empire on April 29th. Lovely sunshine, cutting low across rooftops. Train home. Curtis in my ears. A few more pages of Patti...