I finally have the comfort of a sofa in amidst a heaving foray of exclusive and equally exclusively dressed film set, in an expensive and immaculately furnished trendy bar.
The chatter of intelligent conversation blurred together into a cacophony of white noise, all to the beat of Bangra as the DJ bides his time.
These really are my people but I am a shadow next to them, set apart not by a wish not to socialise, but by an innate difference that is born out of superficiality.
It's surely what I'm waring , the ink on my hands from my leaking pen, the remnants of different coloured nail varnish and a solitary inflection.
A group of friends sit next to me, lovely people here for such a warm time, they allow me to sit on the corner of their table sipping the ebbs of a cold coffee and on occasion contribute to an odd remark.
I'm warm, I have company of sorts, at least I'm not alone in a flat with no sofa to call my own. Just wish I could afford another coffee, think I'll just blow the money and not eat, if I could only get to the bar.
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