half- watching the footage from 1969, wrecking balls knocking down buildings on Abercromby square, wrecking your cells one by one, sending them to forgetful history.
wanting to see the Wellington rooms still standing shell of 1815 grandeur, Adam ceiling imagines you well looking inside your walls, checking the rot, leaving a ruin of you on the outside, missed opportunities to fix something up.
Hope for the hospital-bound is in the rose of Abercromby Square, the only one left in bloom this year, a chance bloom, there has to be one that outlasts the others even if by a minute, last to fall, you can be free for a while knowing this, I said to him.