The battle raged over Clapham Common

I've wondered why the odd combinations are worth the laugh, the shout. I've come back to thinking they are. Everything races by, and in our minds these things must be occurring deep down. Where I would sometimes sit and practice whilst having coffee, there would be a parade of those heading to and from the tube. All types. Well-off, young and striving, lovers, parents and children, angry souls losing touch, their last attempts reaching out to curse me or others who catch their view. Like in 'Wings of Desire' they all must have fantasies as they start or end the last 100 meters of their morning travel. It felt impolite to observe them.

Yet I saw this...

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