Northern Line

Mothers in Hampstead invite me to visit; they remember how it used to be.
We speak on the phone and her voice is relaxing; I wonder if we were at school together.
Children deposited in school.
A pink chaise langue, William Morris, but the ceiling’s so high the room hasn’t heated. Frosty chandeliers and a view of the garden; I keep my clothes on.
Total immersion into right brain connection on paper. Kraftwerk surrounds us, the zone is occupied.

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