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Should be: Overseers towers, the twin blocks of the City Council's power canyon the winds between New Walk and Belvoir St and Welford Rd. You could be blown off the map here, she says. Better to be low than tall among the tall, like the fox we hear outside in the small foraging hours. On the zonal development plan, we live in University, so as the pubs, backstreet hosiers, baling warehouses close, student accommodation (available September, phone 06571 229903), letting agents, disco bars and pizzas on four legs like B-movie special effects move in. I remember, after the post-post-modernist conference, a visitor said of Oxford St: nobody lives there. Our nobody lives we body in the secrets of sidestreets, the scavenge and together at the masonry's feet, beneath their eyes our hiya village hides. I always walk on her traffic-side, to cross the double and treble lanes she holds to my arm. The squared-netting of the grid lunks from the skies but misses our nobody's lives. I found a fox run over on the kerbside today. (But +not+ "overseers'") ! Dave ----- Original Message ----- From: "David Bircumshaw" <[log in to unmask]> To: <[log in to unmask]> Sent: Wednesday, January 11, 2006 5:30 AM Subject: Snap (definitely a snap this, though not written as one, but on a Wednesday, although about 12 months ago. It just came to mind as this is, um, Snap-day. Italics stripped, owing to format. Note the pre-'lunkhead' use of 'lunks'.) Overseers towers, the twin blocks of the City Council's power canyon the winds between New Walk and Belvoir St and Welford Rd. You could be blown off the map here, she says. Better to be low than tall among the tall, like the fox we hear outside in the small foraging hours. On the zonal development plan, we live in University, so as the pubs, backstreet hosiers, baling warehouses close, student acomodation (available September, phone 06571 229903), letting agents, disco bars and pizzas on four legs like B-movie special effects move in. I remember, after the post-post-modernist conference, a visitor said of Oxford St: nobody lives there. Our nobody lives we body in the secrets of sidestreets, the scavenge and together at the masonry's feet, beneath their eyes our hiya village hides. I always walk on her traffic-side, to cross the double and treble lanes she holds to my arm. The squared-netting of the grid lunks from the skies but misses our nobody's lives. I found a fox run over on the kerbside today. (Leicester city centre, around De Montfort House, in between Oxford St and Welford Rd) Best Dave