Foster Square,Bradford England

It wasn’t that she was the only woman in the group, that mingled precariously beneath the bronze figure, or her classic stance, when placing immaculately the newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly breached, but more her opulent style, her contrast of attire, her hair as yet unspoilt. Although jewel less except for a wedding ring in her recently pierce blood stained ear lobe, (this bearing signs of some street wise ritual?) she still wore a suave sophistication, eyes that bred a wanton life, fingers more use to the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of the common brown. But alas maybe the corrosion has not as yet penetrated her foreboding mind, a mind that in time will be given to surrender, never to realize that this volatile life will plunge her deeper, into one shambolic life, whilst still trying to escape from the previous. But! Who knows what ills she was force to bear, what tribulations life brought upon her, maybe her new found acquaintance comfort her, listen to her sympathetically, understanding her predicament, also a novelty this sharing, this caring, respect and reverence showered upon her, like solicitous petals falling gracefully upon her shoulders, removing the burdens of a lifetime. Her head began to lift higher and higher with every mouthful of distant courage, every courteous act. Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle was released from her reluctant deep red lips, a senseless shake only proved her greatest fear. Immediately to her aid, came one of her new found companions, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge, he commence to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit, with his mucus soiled cuff less sleeve, before passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly awaiting its return. One can imagine when the long day is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley bench will be hers, only the best that fleet street can offer, will cover her chilled body, her metabolism soon accelerating, to become one with theirs, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will all options for her diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction almost completed! © Harry J Horsman 1991