My Diary

I woke as a tablet beside a glass of water: I was swallowed without any water being touched – strangely in my dream the opposite had happened. I dusted off my hat and then threw it in the dirt as the wagon train roared by pursued by film makers (in my neo-Western head no one dies except the shadows stretched out between the gunfighters in the yellow sand). I didn’t have any shopping to do so after riding a giant bullfrog round the coffee table to test my theory on the conservation of lugubrious thoughts (two candles remained unlit in a half empty glass) I went upstairs to work. Several stars had appeared on the back wall and I used the idea of parallax to calculate the time it would take to crawl from the bell to the mouthpiece of a metaphorical trumpet.


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