4:48 In The Morning R.I.P Sarah Kane It arrives like a yellow taxi swerving into a parking lot with warped flickers in the windshield. An insect crawling mindlessly up a concrete wall with five legs and the sixth dragging broken behind it. The small stone trapped in between the tread on the worn soles of sneakers that are too tight. The clerk behind the counter of the liquor store with the eyes like broken street lamps and a smile like a street fight. The doctor in a Christmas sweater with a handful of pills but a mouth with no answers. An empty coat on a hanger hung in a darkened window in the apartment building across the empty street. A broken umbrella, it still seeps in, soaks and dampens these fragile fabrics at 4:48 in the morning. Stephen J. Golds was born in London, U.K, but has lived in Japan for most of his adult life. He enjoys spending time with his daughters, reading books, traveling, boxing and listening to old Soul ...
Like the title says.