Those of us who came into the city didn’t realise that we had only reached the outskirts. Striding tower-blocks seemed enough for any city at least - with the odd sandwiched public hostelry like a friendly pet.

But we saw more the more we walked. More than we could encompass with one thought.

The offices were now even taller than before and they didn’t seem to have curtains any more. Some of the windows had blinds, but most had nothing, merely bare glass with pale faces staring sightlessly down at us. The hostelries here were strewn outside with many small tulip-shaped glasses empty but for dregs of red and white. The hostelries earlier had bigger glasses outside with dimples and brownish lees.

We decided we’d have to go back the way we’d come since it’d only get worse the further we went into the city.

I looked round and found I was on my own now, close to a wide river stagnant with half-submerged warships.

(published ‘The Purple Patch’ 1991)