My Diary

I got up a little late and watched the alarm clock become the abdomen of a giant wasp; it flew away in time to see the mannequin in a boutique window spit on the glass. I got up as a Spanish dancer; June was downstairs eating leaves as I entered as part of a forest. We went to town like caddis flies, encased in the detritus of last week. On the way down I noticed that the purple hat which had nestled among a small stand of conifers all month was preparing for take off – I waited as the giantess put the dirty crocks in the dish washer and then watched it find a vein in the purple sky. I came back from town three times even though I only went down once. The cat in an empty building had become an aeroplane and I ended the day as a Spanish wallflower.

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