watercolour and ink on paper
The Young Ones
In the centre of the pub, on your left as you walk to the bar, is a table often chosen by the youngsters. Youths barely old enough to be in the pub, if they are indeed old enough to be in the pub. Well, here they are anyway, this is not a time to worry about the rules of drinking age and such social conformities.
Pity these youths for they have so few memories that are not from the time of the plague. They were but half formed when the plague crushed down these shores as it stampeded across our world. They were but children when they were promised technology would save them but how monstrous it turned out to be loved only by a machine.
Now they enter this adult world with a knowledge of everything but an understanding of nothing. Yet here they are, breaking the rule to experience a touch, a smile, a joke and a laugh, and perhaps a kiss. Maybe they have against the odds managed to understand something through the oppression of the small screen.
