Hugh

There are no ghosts but a wreath of blue pipe smoke hanging in the still air, a whiskey glass ring in the dust of an empty flat, and an ancient football rolling slowly towards a sad, little girl. There are no ghosts but a wreath of blue pipe smoke hanging in the still air, a whiskey glass ring in the dust of an empty flat, and an ancient football rolling slowly towards a sad, little girl. There are no ghosts but a wreath of blue pipe smoke hanging in the still air, a whiskey glass ring in the dust of an empty flat, and an ancient football rolling slowly towards a sad, little girl. There are no ghosts but a wreath of blue pipe smoke hanging in the still air, a whiskey glass ring in the dust of an empty flat, and an ancient football rolling slowly towards a sad, little girl.