Tottenham Court Road Ain’t What it Used to Be

Tottenham Court Road

We had been on a plane to London with two flight attendants, blonde ladies with beige Hubert coats and a confident swagger. And when we got out of the terminal it was already night and there was a light drizzle. It must have been two or three in the morning.

A black cab pulled up and one of attendants turned back to us and said “I feel we know you already, seeing as we’ve spent the last four hours together. More, if you count the hours before the plane.”

Then they got into the cab and were whisked away.

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Fire in the Warehouse

Fire in the Warehouse

I am working in a large warehouse of dark iron walls, muted colors, dark orange, dirt brown, heavy blue.

As we work, I see a shaft high up on the wall has caught fire. Flames lick the grill. It looks like it cannot be put out.

My colleagues are looking to see what they can do. They kick at the metal grill. And I go to the fire alarm, a small rectangular red box on the opposite wall.

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Bad Hot Dogs and a New Route to a Lost Car

Bad hot dogs and a detour to a lost car

We were just coming back from a football match in Manchester and I was trying to find the car.

To get to the match we had to walk a lot. Liam had brought a friend but even so, we were going to arrive very early. Nobody else was even making their way. And we were lost cutting through a suburban estate.

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Jamal Ahmad was Shot Dead in the Age of Gentrification

Jamal Ahmad was Shot Dead

I dream that I am crossing the road using the pedestrian bridge. It climbs high to clear the noisy traffic below and is all grey steel and yellow girders, clanging with my steps.

It was where Jamal Ahmad was shot dead. I have the magazine article about the unjust killing of a black man in my jacket pocket, rolled up .

There is menace in the air and a number of parades are scheduled for commemoration and protest.

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