My Diary

I slid out between the typed A4 sheets of paper that have been serving as bedding, corrected the spelling and got ready to dress. I did this as quickly as possible as figures looking like Carthaginians flitted in and out. Looking at myself in the mirror all I saw was a series of lines, some were straight and some were bent. June has already walked up the road as a collection of circles so I spent some time in my studio before having to watch the dentist circle the light fitting like a bird of prey. I came home with a plastic model of a Tupolev Tu-144 in my mouth only to feel it fly out halfway though a meal of desiccated miners fingers. I had shook the hand of at least one miner before I painted a black person in a black dress against a black sky.

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