Alone in the back of a taxi, the lights of the city flickered across my face as the driver did a kamikaze race back to my flat. With the window down, I leaned my head out and grinned behind screwed up eyes. As the cold nigh played in my hair, I gazed up towards the navy blanket of twinkling stars. It was at that moment that I knew I wanted to die.
2 comments:
Can you send me the back story to this?
I sent a copy of TWEEKER to an influential writer. I was sure he would hate it. Thing is, he really likes it. His email stated that that was his favorite passage from "a work so hard core and mentally devastating". It's from my book (hence "I remember"), so no worries, Mind Of Mine, I'm not going anywhere, yet.
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