Sinister: ink spy

[Euan Leitch]

me and my friend bought leather jackets at the same time last summer so
we spent  a good few weeks singing that chills' song.  great init?

isn't john jackson's address nice?
i see it as a faded turquoise (the 60's one), slightly weathered beach
hut at the foot of some green cliffs where puffins live.  he's sitting
in the doorway on an old milking stool.  the beach isn't of sand, but
brown and cream pebbles. it's high tide and the waves are medium and
occasional, and they rearrange the stones with a bit of a rumble.  it
isn't really sunny, more hazy with brightness all around with no shadows
and there is no horizon 'cos the sea and sky are the same.  it's very
quiet, the puffins are in their burrows, and although john loves belle &
sebastian, at the moment there's music coming from the back of the hut
where there's a wee transistor quietly playing lou reed's *berlin*. in
fact, i think he's lipsyncing the word *dubonnet* right now.
am i taking ink polaroids of strangers  from my roving satellite?  i'm
not trying to steal anybodys soul.

isn't it great that jon & betheys' protestations just inflame our love
for them.

my satellite's moving.  who next?

Uan
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.             Listen, this is pish, I think I'll leave
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