A poem by Amanda Riddick.
A visit to Venice makes Amanda Riddick wonder how we may have to reinvent the wheel.
A museum of music and social change
A negotiation around London’s North Circular.
I keep looking up at the signs so I won’t lose my balance among all the salarymen wearing black suits and white shirts and dark plain ties, all the salarywomen wearing black suits and white blouses and sheer tights, all carrying laptops and rushing home while I hobble along with my rollerbag, all under black or blue umbrellas while I take an involuntary shower, then I take another shower in a bathroom as long as my outstretched arms and wish I’d brought another pair of shoes