My Diary

I walked June up the stegosaurus steps to her place of work; several new words were punched out of the diesel smoke when a train went under the bridge as we went over it – I wrote them down in the dictionary on my lapel – I keep a thesaurus on a band round my waist; my vocabulary increases after a hearty meal. I came back pushing through a sea of noughts and a sky of arrows, bewildering all pointing in different directions; it was only when I accidentally touched one that they began to converge. I worked all day in the focal point which I had completed yesterday (new shelves and a place for my paints). In the bamboo outside my new view window a small red panda was learning its twelve times table: I told him it was counterintuitive one hundred and forty four times.


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