My Diary

I started the day curled up in a small nondescript container trying to hear the the sea – I rolled to the window where the daylight entered as a mobile telephone number. Outside someone was trying to beat the world speed record on a tricycle while a number of spectators (none of which I really know) were attempting to fulfill this title even though there heads were heavily bandaged. I met my father down town carrying two empty bags, I pulled a piece of paper from my penguin pocket and we tried to identify the bird footprints running across it – he thought bittern and I thought egret. I came home listening to the week condensed into a folk song, quite near the end the guitarist broke a string and the singer was left alone in the chorus.

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