a friend at Acklam Village before he left London, but he didn't feel like coming because it was too cold. I went anyway and meet some other peeps, and listened to Katmandino
and the Mardhys play.
After that I went down to Green Note to meet a few friends and listen to Hanna and the Broken Hearts (how come she never invited me into her band? I might not know how to play a instrument, but I sure had my heart broken, so surely I should qualify) play for us on a cold winter night in mid March.
And sometimes you blink, and the bowl turns into something else. Sometimes it turns into a puddle in the middle of the living room floor. Sometimes in turns into a frozen pond behind a small wooden hut overlooking the fjords. Sometimes it turns into a London telephone box. But whatever it turns into you are trapped. You are covering the same old ground, staring the same old fears in the black soulless eyes.
So the best thing to do is grab a camera and go searching for souls, hoping one of them will show you the small crack in the fish bowl, and maybe, just maybe, it will b big enough for you to make your escape .