We’re waving flags and burning police cars, breaking records and shop windows. We’re breaking news and we’re breaking the fourth wall: are you? Are you breaking a sweat, concerned about the breakages, both material and spiritual, not to mention metaphorical? Are you willing to break all familial ties and links to the old school tie? The old school breaks beats, beats on outstretched, trembling hands until they break like choirboys’ voices at the close of short careers. Them’s the breaks. Explosions break the silence, break the tenuous connections, and we take our places at the broken table for a final breakfast of champignons, fried over static from broken radios and burning shops. The glass ceiling remains unbreakable, but we’ll see if we can broker some sort of arrangement.
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Oz Hardwick
Picture Nick Victor
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