1999 it was.
Went on the tube everyday. Lived in Vauxhall. Worked in an office in Oxford Circus. Smoked like a chimney. Camel.
Camel because it had a pyramid and sand on the front you could stare at if you had nothing else to look at, and it gave you a proper punch in the lungs when inhaling.
Near my flat there was this odd pub I used to frequent with my flatmate. No one was hardly ever there. We decided there was a possibility the pub didn’t really exist except for in our imagination. A bit like the twilight zone. It had a jukebox and we always played the same tunes. Oasis and the Verve.
I can’t imagine straight pavements anymore, distanced business suits, the smell of the tube, I thought while walking the path through the village yesterday.
Villager T and O sitting together shelling beans. The color of the granite building behind them, the cow in front.
They looked up. We chatted.
I told them I need to get my camera out one of these days. That this scene was most likely a good picture.
But I’m not sure if I could take good pictures.
I have to remember what my mind was like when I was still used to straight pavements and distanced business suits. When I stared at camel packets.