There are paper bags full of emptiness para-gliding down my street. Evaporating vacant content underneath taxi wheel arches. They distribute their print. Was this their makers doing? To feel the weight of purchase once expanding their seams, to have their bellies emptied out prior commission to swimming kerbs. They are more offices to let than derelict buildings. Unemployed Trojans on death row, drinking rain and para-gliding down my street.
