Monday, 1 June 2009
A Door Flung Open.
The clunky transit van stops in the exit from the petrol station. The door flung open, as a portly Indian guy steps out and rushes back to the pump. The door lying open beside him, no doubt keys in the ignition. I can only guess that he has left his credit card in the pump, since that station is one of the few with direct pump payment units. The lights turn green and I drive on.
Labels: card, glasgow, lights, payment, petrol, traffic, transit, van
Thursday, 14 May 2009
In Transit (2)
The airport canteen is a constant bustle of people. Three men in suits and a lap top. Two pretty girls - one her hair a rich red, shade on her head, her skinny friend an innocent looking blonde. A power suit couple, both black and cleanly turned out, everything about them says ambitious. There is a big polystyrene box, taped shut - black marker arrows and the words “THIS WAY UP”. Owned by two men with plastic leather document folders. One has a purpled facial birth mark, sits and reads a booklet while his partner goes wandering.
In Transit (1)
Japanese woman looks like she could be a model. Red coat, with a hint of a mini skirt beneath that, knee high black boots, and black tights between those and skirt line. Her hair is up, in a tight, precise bun. Her case is large, pink, and flowery. He is of a similar height to her. With the body of a weight lifter, face of a boxer, or perhaps a rugby player? He’d have a certain raw handsomeness if his face wasn’t so flushed, his eyes bruised. He looks to built up for a boxer, but the face suggests otherwise. They check into a flight to Rome together.
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