I wish I could go back to the old goth club under the railway arches. Walk in and be lost in the warm gloom of the smoke machine and deep satin melencholy of the music. Greeted by colours that do not sear the eye and passive faces uninterested in judgement. Just to dance, or drink quietly alone with no awkwardness.
It was a place of peace and belonging, a home of a sorts.
I could do with that strange serenity tonight.
But time is passed.