Three unconnected thoughts from an old notebook

I lost my MP3 player. Without it I walked self-consciously. For the first time in years, I could hear the sound of my feet.

I played with my wedding ring. I moved it, and discovered a layer of flaking, pale skin underneath.

The floral tributes are still there, where a young life ended not so long ago, where they were forced to cancel the Olympic celebrations. I walk past them daily to and from the tube station, perturbed that I feel so little.