All hisses, brass bells, the 'thugga thugga' of the flywheel which supplies energy to a pump which in turn builds pressure for the brakes. The lights from the thing threw shadows across my wall in strips going up to the ceiling, with spark flashes quick and sudden. For two years I fell asleep to that sound, dreaming of my life and friends in the country I left behind. The dreams stopped after a while. Flats in the daytime.
Televisions are on in each flat.
Each door is open as it is hot. Night comes again. You can mix your own soundtrack from the television audio as you move up and down the stairs and along the length of the block. Us kids are playing games - chasey, yo yos. Around the back of the flats is where I once saw a kid blow up one of those plastic Commonwealth savings combination lock toy safes with a firecracker, but not before trapping a five inch lizard inside.