Why the lock, Johnny Lock?

We were around a weak rectangular coffee table mid-way through last year. Jay, Robin and I, elbows on the table-top. Laptops, typewriters, books, papers, pens, pencils, chargers, phones, all laid out across the table and floor. The early drafts of There’s a Tale to This City were mostly compiled and edited around this coffee table in Robin’s apartment. Writing was the easy bit — we could write about everything we’d seen as street observers in good detail when we bounced off each other’s memories. The next stage was where we had to make sense of it all — the nonsensical, the senseless, the whole catalogue of stories we had recorded off the streets. <a href="https://thestreetpoet.medium.com/why-the-lock-johnny-lock-44252990db6">Learn More</a>