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Andre JordanFOUR LOVE STORIES1/. Beverly  I have fallen head-over-heels in love with a socially awkward beauty called Beverly. She smells of salt and vinegar crisps and simply refuses to look me in the eye.As I sat on the train opposite her, dressed in my finest pink cowboy shirt, Beverly remained oblivious to my presence and continued to stare at the floor. "What tragic twist of evil fate had left a beauty such as Beverly void of all self-worth?" I wondered to myself, as we hurtled through the countryside at 1000mph. Suddenly, Beverly’s phone began to vibrate to the sounds of The White Stripes. "Hi babe," she smiled, in a manner I had not suspected from someone so clearly afflicted by inner-doubt. "I’ll be at the station in 10 minutes, I’ll meet you outside… bye… bye… yes babe, I love you too" Oh how I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. An adventure, both epic and pointless I enter the newsagents and order my cheap-cigarettes. The shopkeeper smiles briefly at me, before giving me my change: one five-pound note and several coins. As I leave the shop, a huge gust of wind grabs the five-pound note from my hand and throws it into the air. I chase the five-pound note down the street. Eventually, it lands on the road. For fear of certain death, I do not rush out onto the road – instead, I wait until the hurtling cars have passed. After several anxious moments, it is safe for me to retrieve the five-pound note. I pick it up. It is very badly torn. And so, without a moments hesitation, I return to the newsagents and buy another packet of cheap-cigarettes. The shopkeeper is quite clearly perplexed by my actions – but I do not care – the five-pound note is clearly cursed and I do not wish to carry such karma in my pocket. 2/. [Can’t Say] I have fallen head-over-heels in love with a mysterious girl called [Can’t Say]. She smells of hollyhocks and hair dye. ...I left the shop in a flood of tears... Today I sent her an email and just sat by my computer hoping she would respond. I even told her my real name – just to show how much I trusted her. Eventually, after hours of anxious waiting, the mysterious girl finally responded to my heartfelt email but still she insisted on being called [Can’t Say].If ever [Can’t say] were to find it in her heart to reveal her true name to me, I am sure it would be a name more pleasant to my ears than any other sound I have ever had the privilege of whispering. 3/. Corner Shop Girl I have fallen head-over-heels in love with a little Pakistani lady. She is twice my age, and her skin is creased like a crocodile's. Every day I go to her shop and order my cheap cigarettes. Every day she greets me with a smile that would light up even the dullest of worlds. Today I went at the usual time and found she had been replace by a teenage girl with no joy in her eyes. I ordered my cheap cigarettes and asked the teenage girl where the little Pakistani lady had gone? "Pakistan," said the girl, handing me my cheap cigarettes, as I left the shop in a flood of tears. 4/. Blossom I have fallen head-over-heels in love with a middle-aged psychotherapist called Blossom. She smells of apricots and antiseptic cream. Every week I visit Blossom in her whitewashed room filled with joy. And every week she greets me with an optimistic smile that instantly lifts my spirit. She is a marvelous person. And our meetings are without a doubt the highlight of my week. But today, Blossom didn't greet me in her usual manner and just said I was no longer mental and so she had decided to discharge me. "But can't I just pretend I'm still mental?" I sobbed. "No," said Blossom, in a tone I hadn't heard before, "That would be totally unethical." And with that, my case was closed, and I was left to face the cruelness of life on my own once more. Andre Jordan is a professional photographer. He writes the blog A Beautiful Revolution. The photograph is of grafitti in Columbia Road Market, Hackney. 11:16 AM - 24/7/2006 - post comment
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