Quiet my foot… I start with the good old fashioned Jamaican way of conversation starting by kissing me teeth ;s (ok the remaining ones ;o)….. you carn’t moan unless your prepared to do something about it…. you carn’t do something about what you don’t know…. and thus after my little jaunt into directed society I step back thinking what the fuck ;s….. I’m asked all the time am I mad to live in a place where if you don’t drive it takes you two buses and an hour to reach a city ;s and if that wasn’t blasted bad enough it takes two and a half hours to reach back ayard ;o like they didn’t want you to fing leave ;s …. Leicester, multi cultural to the point that one almost feels illiterate being unable to read or write in another language ;s ;o …. segregated by shop, housing or work district ;s the only visible difference being where the drunkards hang out… it is with some fascination that over the last four weeks that I have observed the territorial behaviour of….. those whom seem not to work full time ;o for three weeks it has been the same group…. not so visible in the morning but you do occasionally see one or two worse for ware but just as loud if somewhat blurry eyed 8D…. but by 4.15 in the afternoon they are once again at full swing can in hand eyes and bodies rolling as if to some distant imagined or remembered tunes and all the while acting for the captive and changing audience of commuters…. commuters ;s some in fear some in amusement but most seemingly too tired to care to engrossed in music book phone or food to want to surface and see that reality of defiance in body and defeat in the eyes mind and spirit… for to see is to hear the brokenness of it all that acceptance of death to all that could have been… and between the two, drunkards and commuters, I see no difference….!


The drunkards have changed…. a new group has taken over the spot… there are one or two from the first group… not sure if that’s the same dog though ;s what was cantered at the base of a tower block ;s if you can call it that as it’s not like up to the 20th floor or anything ;s is now gathered about the three benches in the middle of the road ;s one of those island things… don’t know what doughnut thought of such idiocy who in their right mind would want to sit in the middle of a double bus and car lane sucking in fumes ;s ;o ….. this group is louder… less concealing with the alcohol… the only bags in sight are those carrying more beers cider whatever…. and the commuters are aware of the change and are more… alert…. the dog barking… a raised voice… an unusual noise and even those with headphones on peek in that direction… as if there is something to be feared…. and in this reality there is…. for it almost comes over in waves…. the previous group while loud, boisterous where in essence jolly and at times while overly so in the carrying out of their drunkenness polite to commuters and good looking gal’s 8D…. this new group were/are not…. this group is just that little bit more seemingly detached from what’s about them to be more about them… raised voices can be heard most of the time… testy movements and interactions for this has seeped into the physical realm and it is this that the commuters feel and anticipate for it is now one road nearer, it is within eye contact range… reality just moved a little closer to home….!


Enter one of the buildings and you have entered them all….. each floor is occupied by an entity… each entrance has a security guard or two or three ;s… the exceptions are the government buildings which have small private armies and your not to go to another floor until directed to do so… the individual who will guide direct and confront you is not interested in your opinion story or reason for being for you as an individual are not important you are part of a story and they are doing the telling… if your a new seeker go sit over there… do you have an appointment yes thanks don’t care up to the next floor and sit… any attempt at humour will be noted and held against you for sarcasm and challenging behaviour ;s


Fourth floor CAB…. despite the smells of the lower floors sometimes weed sometimes urine sometimes something you just shrug at and think mannnnn …. a quiet waiting room… no one talks other than too that person they came with… every nationality race or culture that you could think of… sit there for a morning and you have a good chance of seeing meeting or greeting one… all seeking help with an aspect of the system that they have come into contact with… not sure of its boundaries…. confused by it bureaucracy…. aware of it fallacies…. confined by its autonomy… stomped by its commonality for that is what seems to hit home the hardest the fact that sorry but that’s life Jim but not how we want to know it ;s…..


In the midst of it all I find a space in a room shared with other spaces… like bubbles of oneness we Move in around and past each other for our purposes are our own… and yet I dared to poke a bubble just to peek within… and what colour there is in the world and that’s where this story begins………