Disheartened

Disheartened The Dutch tourists have left and last year’s cherries hang unpicked as do almond nuts that are also full of worms, and who says the grass isn’t sweet? The sun is a yellow ring on a blind sky, disillusioned. As a 30 watt bulb in a room with faded wallpaper, at a rundown hotel which calls itself Bellevue; last stop before sleeping rough. Nothing is more abject then an out of season tourist town, worried shopkeepers and tarts even the flowers are grey; except for a couple of retired seagulls, birds have flown to Africa and will not return before the rain stops falling.