Woman drops a coin in her purse. No cherries. Crumpled scratchcard drops to the floor of the bus. When she puts her purse back into her rucksac her hand returns holding a bag of crisps. Gotta feed the monkey.
Her androynous face looks like it has spent an age and a day atop a cliff staring out to sea; Pocked and stormbeaten; steeped in salt water and put away wet.Her eyes fall not upon the horizon, which causes them to ache, but upon the waves, tracking the undifferentiated swell, waiting for something to break free from the mass ad take form ; race shorewards to oblivion. She wanted so much to break free and turn herself towards the sky.