Feedbag

It’s 6pm and purple hue is about to grasp the horizon, in some ways closing the door on the day and hurrying your exploits. ย Your blood pumps painfully sober around your body, made all the more unbearable by the familiar loneliness that punctuates these times. ย You try not to think about those better prepared, already enjoying the hazy embrace of lemon-tinted herb to the tones of their favourite mixtape. ย Others have different vices – bodies better cushioned by belated bevvies or the simple hypnotism of Hollyoaks. ย Unburdened by the grind of which you’re subject, it’s best to not consider them at all.…   [continue reading]