With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark rubber, and fear of fine sand. – Federico Garcia Lorca
I have a fear of poverty in old age. I have this vision of myself living in a skip and eating cat food. Its because Im freelance, and Ive never had a proper job. I dont have a pension, and my savings are dwindling. I always thought someone would just come along and look after me. – Jenny Eclair