it’s twenty two and sunny on the high road we’re up by 7 and out the door by 11 there’s a man selling flowers on the corner and there’s a man selling flowers by the station and there’s a man selling flowers opposite the man selling vegetables and everyone on the high road is also up by 7 and out by 11 so we fight for the last borek at the bakery and eat it outside everything is gorgeous and the church bells are ringing and you pose hypotheticals at me, like whether i’d survive the impending devastation of an apocalyptic scenario and i remind you how quickly i’d put a gun to my head at the slightest inkling of inconvenience as if i’d want to live without the boreks and the flowers and the twenty two degree british weather that has sent everyone in london into a spin there’s a dog in a pram and a baby on its toes taking its first steps down the high road it stumbles past the book shop and past the man selling flowers by the pub towards the...