Brighton A.M.

Brighton mornings were
Always like this
Hazy clouds
Blown in from the channel
Sunshine chase

Hazy head
Arisen from blissful
Stimulants still dancing
Around my soul

I smile.
The world is beautiful.


Jazz. Rooms.


Original Jazz Rooms poster from 1995

It is nineteen ninety-three perhaps, or maybe ninety four.

Whatever the year, it is certainly late. It is nearly one o’clock in the morning.

We are in a dark roughhouse basement room. The walls are carelessly painted in a matt black emulsion as are the wooden benches that occupy various spaces around the perimeter. However, it is far too dark to make out any of these features clearly. There is also the odd cluster of more comfortable seating – little wooden stools with upholstered seats, and maybe a low table amongst them. That is as good as it gets here.

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