My Diary

I crawled out of one magazine (cover photo of a lone tree with a family of paper aeroplanes living in it) and immediately crawled into another (previewing Spring fashions for trendy reed beds). I then walked a neon light to town after my usual breakfast of Georgian windows and associated wistful faces looking out. I came home with cornfield stubble on my purposefully flattened head and the lone farmer contemplating the nascent glories of a cranial Spring. Personally I still had an autumn mind and chipped flints to make a stone-age computer until June cracked open her moa egg workplace and came home for the day. I was wearing a ticker tape vest and old fashioned analogue display underpants as she changed into a golden eagle on a mountain top.

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