My Diary

I started the day with the image of a very grand house hovering mere inches from the front of my face. I counted the floors and then counted the windows – June looked up Mulberry in the dictionary. The concrete, but still cognizant, men we keep encased in water and glass needed attention before I wired myself up to the international grid and became an invisible companion to a lady with a strangely flickering face. I later found more flickering face people and magically took them to an Anglo-Saxon encampment where we all stood before the vocal cord flames. I looked up and thought of young people attempting to execute an immortal and invulnerable man – a never ending story. June came in looking down and holding an old book.


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