Right this
moment, before you finish reading this line, what do you reckon is the one most
prominent thought on your mind?
To me, it
could be a bunch os different things.
It could be
the fact that I've been writing again, after over a month of absolute literary
silence.
It couls
be, thoughts of the one girl that ripped my world out from right underneath my
feet.
OR, it
could be this little bit of smokey, bubbly ecstasy I've got in front of me.
But, you
know what, it's none of those things.
It isn't
even the thought of this beautiful, and I mean absa-freakin-loutely BEAUTIFUL
girl I see at work ever day.
What I had
on my mind, were thoughts of home.
Not the
place where Dad's built a house at n Mom's busy in the kitchen.
When I say
home, I mean that wooden table on an iron frame that I'd hang out at with my
brothers.
Just us,
some sheesha, kirkire, a couple of club sandwiches and the topic of the day,
which could range from football, to formula1 to some random chic we'd seen
walkin down the street with some "Lucky Bastard!"
However we
start the day, it always ends the same way. With two questions.
1) Who da
fuck is paying?
And
2) What
time tomorrow?
THAT, is
home.
Just us
brothers, some sheesha, kirkire and a couple of club sandwiches.
