just when i thought my late teens were over, proof otherwise hit me in the head like jet lee's shadowless kick: as i was uncomfortably sitting down in the tube carrying me from work to house, and as insecurities and questions about the future, about what will ever become of me, essential/vital trivialities that only grown-ups worry about were flooding my mind, the metro stopped unaffected at one of its stops and through a glass, darkly (i.e. through the forrest of big bellies and stretched armpits clouding my view) i could see the corner of an ad for a tate exhibition. more precisely:
|the actual exhibition|
i read it in my head and i smiled out loud (a clear indication that i still have magical residue in this old head of mine). now, we wait. (and very soon we go to tate).