remote cards

A Friday night in March. After 10 pm at night. It’s dark. It’s wet. The forecast is wintry. The under age clubs have clearly emptied out. They stand in their packs, huddled by the bus stops, gathered in the fast-food places, stuffing their faces. Not used to seeing them in this phase, normally it’s the flocks on the streets, bight and shiny and full of ferociousness. Here they are faded, hair gone lank, make up smudged some. they sit round tables, while I drink coffee, some of them their mums have turned up to meet them, they look amused while their daughters just look exhausted. There is something particularly like a rave culture to the style but surely they aren't still listening to faded 80's hardcore classics? But I have no idea what they might be listening to. Buses come and go, the crowds thin out, and it takes on the feel of a more normal Friday night once again. The surreal underage interlude coming to an end