T and i trundled through the columbia flower market in falling snow. it's apparently an indication of the market's lack of patrons that roses were going twenty for a fiver.
a flowerseller tried to move product with the plea that he wanted to hurry home to get his wife's knickers off. based on subsequent adjustments to his groinal area, the joke was that it was he who was wearing her knickers.
in a perfumery, an aspiring milliner made me model my leopard print hat while she photographed it so she could later copy the shape. then she regaled us with her recent experiences at a marilyn manson show.
as we perused the goods on offer at a cake shop, T admitted she doesn't love london like she loves berlin. when we sat in a pub nursing diet cokes later, we smoothed this out.
it is, perhaps, just a different type of love. forced, and slightly harassing. more like a set-up, as opposed to the mad love of the cities that, quite simply, lay claim to our hearts.