Seven by Nine
1st place £200
I hate them.
Admittedly, I don’t know them. But I hate them all the same.
The way her dark hair looks like liquid in the spring sunshine. The way he holds the paper bag from the bakery and the two cups of coffee. The way they can’t bear to drop into single file when another person approaches them on the pavement, and instead walk in the middle of the empty roads.
I sit in the bay, the BBC, Twitter. Instagram. Facebook if I feel like a new conspiracy theory (will anything top ? I doubt it). I attempt to write, but doubling down on the benefits of connected data doesn’t feel a pressing matter these days. I try to pull words from my brain and wonder if it’d be more pleasant to pluck out my eyelashes with the pink tweezers in my make-up bag.
