2302, in the chicken & chip shop, what I’ve really been thinking about all along I think. Waiting for my food. Long walk up to 5th Avenue. Dire, as expected. Maybe too late, 935pm. All the girls leaving one by one. Back to Empire, as I walked in all the girls sprang to life like waxwork dummies or switched off automatons suddenly animated—me the only customer. I turned around and walked out again. And, so, all the way back for my chicken & chips. A relatively cheap night in Brussels. And I question, why ever stay in Brussels again?
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