My Diary

I slept in a sugar bowl and woke up tired. With my eyes half closed (some would say half open) I signed my name on a roll of bandages in eleven different languages – none of which I could speak. I had to go the workshops to get a new cauldron and then a lipstick to scrawl a message on the dressing table mirror. After a spin in a toy car I found myself in a wood embracing a length of pipe; I held my ears to the ground but couldn’t hear the water flowing although I did hear two sets of footsteps merge into one. I walked home inside one leg of a pair of tights.


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