He watchd as his reflection in a shop window passed behind a queue of people waiting for a bus, It was about four thirty in the afternoon. He had hardly spoken to anyone for about a week - it was the way he chose to live. He took a bus to Leicester Square and went to see a film. He didn't bother to follow the story line, but sat enjoying the movement, the warm semi darkness, the shifting colors. Afterwards he drank a half of bitter in a nearby pub then took the tube back to his flat. The Moon was out, it was a cool night. Some random lines of dialogue from the film recurred in his memory as he watered the plants in his living room, and he thought that he should tidy up in the spare room the following day. He read a book about the countryside, looking at photgraphs of Derbyshire's green fields and high moors. Then he put out the light and went to bed.

John Foxx