Quatre.

[flambeauvivant]

Ivy covered the hollow face of an angel. Beneath my hand the gravestone was still warm from the day. The ruined village had long been abandoned and with it the small graveyard, but not one grave was as old as I. Amidst old tombs my thoughts always stray back to New Orleans. I could almost smell the jasmine and the distant clatter of horses. I

Comments

[eratothemuse]

With all of you wandering around London, I'm well annoyed I've not ran into anyone. My flat in Blackheath is always open, day or night. Preferably night, I'd rather not have half-burned vampires crawling up to my front door.

[flambeauvivant]

Mn then you live quite close to Lexia - whom I visit often. Well, fancy that.

[eratothemuse]

Small world, indeed. If you see a short American crossing Blackheath an hour or so after dusk while listening to music far too loudly, then do say Hello.

And the south east is lovely, I recommend the view of Canary Wharf from the hill in Greenwich Park.

Have you found what you're looking for, at least?

[flambeauvivant]

I'll be back to haunt your jaunty steps very soon. London calls.

I always find what I think I'm looking for, but I rarely find what I should be looking for.