My Diary

I rose like colourless bubbles from a deep sea vent and went to town with Atlas on my shoulder-it is said that he had the world on his but it was impossible to see because of the low dark cloud.I met a man at centre of the earth who has some of my pictures and claims they are his own.He tried to persuade me that the clouds were flat fish and I should spend all my time looking up instead of down.I emptied my pockets and gave him a thread I had removed from the embroidered moccasin of a Red Indian warrior.He emptied his and we each looked at separate scraps of paper before I left with the daughter of Aegipan and he jumped on a sleeping centaur instead of a bus-it may be true that the horns on my head will reveal the hand marks of man.

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