My Diary

Conscious there was an imaginary figure going up and down a set of stairs inside my head I very quietly walked the entire length of a giant keyboard to reach the back door; I initially walked only on white but eventually changed key. I returned like a Namib Desert sea fog; the dog was dancing in points although her reflection was barefoot. We walked along a Gizelle stage, changing the story as we did so and said good bye to the indestructible robot heroine at the front door (she was destined to replace Gort in the twenty second remake of the science fiction classic – this one set in the garden of the house I grew up in). I had covered myself in fallen leaves (each leaf a memory) when June entered; the imaginary figures in her head having dug a large hole and then filled it in again.


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