My Diary

I got up in a suit of armour after dreaming of an avenue of electromagnets – the bride and groom ran along it generating an electric current – as the bulb lit up they then went out for the day. In the real world I followed June around a field of bright clothes: next season’s colours among leafless twigs with London accents. I imagined bare arms hanging from the ceiling and bare legs rising from the floor – disconcertingly they in turn imagined me walking through brick walls with my feet in dried flower arrangements and my arms encased in swathes of over ripe fruit. We caught a train which had the Sistine Chapel replicated inside; I stroked my beard like Michelangelo and then pulled a bicycle from a sleeping tiger for an old lady who had the national anthem embroidered on her vest.


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