La France Rose Gold Neon Pink Handlebars Vintage Road Bike
A canal thought, cold air and a new bike
Haggerston Overground Station, 18th October, 2026
It's suddenly become extremely cold, like autumn never came and winter came barging in. The sun comes and goes but it's not trench coat weather. The leaves are still green and barely any tree has shed its coat.
The smell of winter reminds me of you, more specifically November last year, when my days were full of cold sun and a sentiment of hope and yearning. The first time I noticed the dry air outside I didn't like it, as it reminded of me of how happy and in love I was this time last year. A soft cocoon of innocence. Now it's a carcass of a bird lying on the still-green grass, it still has its colourful feathers on and the worms haven't gotten to it, but the bird lies still nonetheless, quietly waiting for the next phase of disintegration, which is the coating from a thick substance of nostalgia. You're the coating. And I'm losing sight of you as each day passes.
Telegraph Hill has been the location of many of my sit-downs with myself, quietly on my own, trying to write, trying to read, little tears rolling down here and there as I stared at the trees and sky, trying to avoid the sight of the council estate building in Peckham.
The knowledge that someone is leaving a city in part because of you sounds a bit sad doesn't it.
But anyway, I walk along the canal with my new bike that I think you'd like. Last time I was here was with you in the depth of February.
In another part of the web, I wrote:
And when I walk through this tunnel, you'll be gone!
At least I have a super duper beautiful baby that'll take me back home.
It is just bittersweet isn't it. Bitterly liberating knowing that a love has been lost, faded away without you realizing. I look down at it lying at the bottom of the canal surrounded by cans of beer, oh, and a pan. I don't want it back, but I do want...my face, hands and feet to be warm again.