Instalment Nine – The Twisted Times of Bella Basura


 Of course it’s sunday, and we were trudging towards The Holy Shrine of the Bed of God’s Mother for some mass or other. For no other reason than it was the quickest way to check out who was still awake or alive on this awful slippery autumn sunday afternoon drag-out, hung over and weak, all over aching for something. Sky yellow, blue, even green shading like a bruise, festering snow and sleet. A slow stroll as far as the railway…more

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