Ok, so it’s been forever since I was last on here, but things have been… busy to say the least. Anyways, I was just reading about this thing called ‘London Writer’s Rooms’ (see bottom of post for link) and realised it has been far too long since I wrote anything other than academic essays, etc. So I opened up Word and wrote the following in about 2 minutes. I reckon it’s got some potential here, and since it seems to be going on a ‘homeless expedition’, it may give me the chance to do some actual research into the ‘problem’ of homelessness, particularly in London.
More to come if I write anything else 😛
Deep under the duvet that she currently called home, Hope breathed in the foul smell of urine and alcohol. The dog had pissed on her again. It was either him, or that dirty bastard Fox. Fox seemed to have a habit for emptying his bodily content in the most inconvenient of places, most recently in the nearby Costa – much to the delight of the early-morning suits. She would have laughed if she could, but at that moment in time had been most profoundly stoned, and it was stoned only. The hard stuff was far too much for her to handle. Even alcohol was off-limits to her, for she knew the damage that it could cause: case in point being Fox.
https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/londonwritersrooms?fref=ts
xx
A.L. Wilson 