My Diary

I started the day as a pattern on the sofa waiting for the soft blackness when someone sits down; apparently for some reason they thought about it for a long time before actually doing so. While walking June to her island of work I had seen a purple dawn – June acknowledged later that she had also seen silver strands in the Bride of Frankenstein sky, as well as a sand dune girl whipping her long hair back and forth. Poppy and I painted the Forth bridge and then I dressed myself in appropriately sized cabbage leaves and went out to a rabbit barn dance; I stopped off on the way back at a Hindu temple: wondering why the clock had thirteen hours and the bottle on the top shelf had a sunken ship in it. I sung to myself until June came back from work to form the chorus.

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