My Diary

I stood staring at two flowers in the piece of garden beneath the bedroom window for some time before getting up and washing a bible instead of my feet. I felt sure that they were getting closer together and would have found out for definite if a hooded person with crane legs (scientific name: Grus monarcha) hadn’t come in and picked them. I wrote down my observations and the dog and I then walked as pilgrims along a very short section of ancient road. I came home with ideas like an avenue of trees and spoke in falling leaves to the congregation behind the door. In reality I found only a haversack and a rolled up newspaper (painted green with red spots and called an art work). The trees turned into stepping stones receding into a four and a half dimensional distance.

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