We walked in. The woman across the bar gave us a look you could have poured on a waffle. She looked like she liked waffles. We'd no more than sat down to wet our whistles than the black guy next to me wanted to sell me some blow. This is a good place to go drink without the needless distractions of good food, decor and company. One of the patrons, who we had met at Mr. Max's, had definitely gone into english optional and wanted to talk to someone about something that had happened to him somtime ago at someplace or the other and didn't this mean something to someone?
Jim was glad we finished our beer, before he tried to strike up a conversation with either of us. A dark, tudor interior along with green lights on the bottles arranged in the middle of the island style bar, creates an atmosphere reminiscent of nausea.
Photograph: a corner building with a projecting sign, bricked up or shuttered ground floor openings, a one way sign at the kerb, figures further down the street.