Ghost of Christmas

Evening all.

Been spending a couple of nights in Manchester pre-Christmas.

Manchester used to be my Town.

I used to know all the nooks and crannies, where to go, where not to go.

I could walk from one side of Manchester to the other, heading for my hunting grounds like the pet shop and joke shop on Tib street, the Ritz, Rockworld, the glorious subterranenan record shop of Yanks, the Apollo, Moonraker studios, and all the way back to the Corn exchange and the train station at Victoria, without a thought for where my feet were taking me.

That was then, and this is now....

Nothing,

many of the old sights have gone, new, tall, modern buildings stretch up to the sky where dark, dingy streets once skulked around, concrete obstacles block the paths i used to tread, my landmarks all gone, obliterated by time and progress...

i am lost,

I am a ghost, haunting streets i used to own, unfamiliar faces and eyes that look straight through me as i drift from real life to memory.

i do not live here anymore