From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
My fingers ache from clutching this stiff wool coat, its collar rough against my chin as I stare at the morning gazette's grim news of the German liner Konig Friedrich August aground off Boulogne. Shipping delays are certain to send the price of a loaf past six cents, a cost that is becoming truly over the top for any honest working man to shoulder. The waxed finish of these new Rook cards feels slick and cold in my pocket, a small distraction from the mounting dread of international blockades and rising fuel costs. I nervously smooth the heavy twill of my trousers, listening to the frantic rhythm of "Alexander's Ragtime Band" drifting from a nearby cafe while my mind remains fixated on the growing instability of the sea.