My Diary: Walking The Ramparts Reading My Enemy Like A Book

June and I got up later than usual among the dust sheets of a newly painted day.‭ ‬After a breakfast laid out like a besieging army we decided to go out for a Spring shop.‭ ‬We left the house in a semi-transparent state‭; ‬a row of trees like condemned cattle at a water trough shone through her and a procession of martyred saints shone through me‭ ‬-‭ ‬I told the child in a push chair that they were really young bushes surrounding a very old stile:‭ ‬a statement soon reinforced when a middle aged man preceded to climb over it.‭ ‬I secretly thought that all people were like spring flowers pushing through frozen ground and was just about to state this fact when a person I never knew at school walked by without speaking.‭ ‬Looking back I saw he was dropping directions to a place I never planned to visit.


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