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| ...this corner has a magic it has earned. I make a cup of coffee and prepare to drink it. two guys kiss passionately, turn to leave, return to kiss, turn to leave, return to kiss. on a day set up like this even the police look interesting. the coffee shop promises ‘sex coffee and rock and roll’. tourists, hipsters, techy types, book clubs enrol, dream old Soho, evoke the soul. and those who slip inside seem somehow different as they emerge, the gestures bigger, and the hugs again. the street bats up. a white van, stuck in traffic, proclaims Aussie Man Does-deliver drinks apparently. look on this work new Soho and rejoice. a group of suits stride to lunch, jet fighters in the ambling ambience. the street cleaner leans on his broom and texts his mates. and there is always a hole...gas men scratch their heads. flagging dads, engulfed by kids and Hamley’s bags. now where did I park my car at twenty pounds an hour? this is expectant space. the checked phone finds its place. you’re on your way. you’re here! the hug, new introductions, time stops for cheer. the Hari Krishna’s daily ritual, shopkeepers, passersby join in their dance on Carnaby. and later the night club squealers close the day, some with a drunken shout, some in a bubbly bliss. and all the time, the media tells us that the world is full of fascinating people just like this. some see this comment as a cynic’s curse, some greet it with a kiss... |
Liz Callingham