/ TIM KNIGHT
where to find the time Kind has eyes that know where the nowhere pier lies; where the sea laps two folds at-a time, repeating in lines, with white water scribbled tips that bend double only to break over to start again. Kind is a train on time; even when the wetter-weather-thanthe-wet-weather-we’ve-already-had slows down the lines, those engines and drivers and aisle-walking-staff still arrive on schedule- another tick on the East Coast graph. Kind are those lovers you see who don’t kiss and scream their affection at one another, instead stand - just there - quietly together: her running a finger down his suit-seam at the back and him repositioning his loose-blue tie-tack. Kind was, and will always be, everything gone and already built upon: the torn pages of your financial year diary, the DONE do’s from every app-to-do-list, expired and uninstalled, and those never-answered phone calls that sat there ignored.
Issue 15 of The Leeds Debacle