Dark Angel
In the sky it seemed that modern jazz riffed the location of American style jeans to youth wanting to be cool. Mr Angel was not permitted to hear the piano, wind instruments or hissing drums. He had bought the jeans because during the school half term his son had come with him to the wholesaler’s cigar smoke-filled cave under the arches of Liverpool Street station. The same reflective London sky had shone on the substantial aesthetic of pigeon-hued masonry and the new insubstantial aesthetic which used the elliptical parabola of a flying saucer and the structure of an atom. The boy was undistinguished except that the irises of his eyes resembled cut and polished stones of turquoise.
By Laura Del-Rivo.