My bicycle has 2 wheels and no wings, yet I fly.
There’s nothing like a smokable kick up the bum to get the creative juices flowing. Sadly I have zero car in London and a strong respect for my housemates and our squeaky clean address so getting my hands on smokeable creativity is a ballache.
Pushes bike into view
Until now. In and out in a jiffy; no lingering, no chats. Flying down the street, pocket jammed with cash, swip-swap and off I pop, riding off into the night.
Feds flash the lights and I’m out of sight, mans picking up bud on the bike.
sound of the hebdomad