Loitering at the No. 27 bus stop a couple of weeks ago, taking the above shot, the thought struck me that the figure in the poem I was thinking about may not exist.
I seemed to be in a space waiting to be filled.
Caught sight of myself conjuring a vision and giving it life by applying a moral agency to it.
Filling it with a backstory that did not appear in the verse.
It appears to have been constructed to do this.