My Diary: I Wear The House As A Hat

The house was a mythical garden as I left via a broken flower pot-the shards were later found in a peat bog and were pronounced to be from the fake tan phase of the late bronze age;as they were discovered beside the perfectly preserved remains of someone from the far distant future I questioned this assessment as I caught the train to a medieval city.I met the old giant,who had shrunk himself into normal stature to squeeze into a lipstick shaped vehicle for the trip the buildings spread like butter on the hilltop.We waited with eyes both open and closed.As we emerged from the main entrance I heard a robin singing from a tree in the middle of a roundabout and pictured a young boy trapped in a car,growing old as he looked out at the endlessly repeating landscape.

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