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Wednesday 26th July 2017.

On touch down in the murky city of Manchester from the delights of sunny Lisbon...the echoes, footsteps, the gay laughter the shere freedom from the streets is slowly by each day beginning to feel a whisper in the wind, it does not take long to sink once more into the red bricked city scape of home,you have to pinch oneself just to recall those footsteps you only took a few days ago...some echoes will always remain the ones so vivid that the spank in the eyes can never be forgotten, others recalled by the capture of the day in the click of a camera, which can keep time in celuliod until one day they are perhaps discarded from those whom follow one to be perhaps found in a car boot sale....and fresh eyes might just linger to sigh in unison with ghosts forever trapped in celuliod whom haunt the wilderness of car boot sales looking for peace, a way out from whence they came by that instant click of the shutter in release back to that second of time taken from them in a gasp unknown to them.......So Goeth... 

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bichoose
bichoose

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