City AM

Life wearies us all, eventually. Not startling news to most of us as we spin about our rodent-wheels, but over the past month I've encountered this fatal truism poignantly embodied in the local paper tout. The whole experience is actually very reminicient of a sort of time-lapse photography or animatory shorthand.

Quite simply, the beautiful boy who distributes City AM's in Jubilee Place has gradually subdued his bright-eyed, robust 'City AM!', into a morose mumble of the approximation, 'ShirrtyM...m'. This entirely unremarkable process vaguely hinted at some larger, more vastly reaching erosion this morning, as I pondered upon the correlation in our recent employment movements.

You see I feel quite confident that we embarked on our present wage scratching ventures at around the same time, and correspondingly, I have seen my initial energy, awe & enthusiasm wane in his mirrored, audio image.

I'm unspeakably sad about it. There is something heart wrenchingly endearing in his awkward adolescently-loped posture. His aquiline eyes, coco butter skin & lyrically muted accent, unconsciously solicitor a pre-'morning pot of tea' smile out of me every time I rise to his appointed position atop the crocodile backed escalator's wave of teeth.

I confess I'm sure there is a touch of the patronising, a smudge of the pity-fueled & no doubt the taint of bourgeois smugness in my gentle delight. Regardless, I very earnestly hope he soon finds something to ignite those lovely smiling eyes again... I'll hazzard a guess it'd probably be another job.