My Diary: Thinking I Am A Farmer When I Am Actually A Farm Animal

June and I got up a little later than normal but still before the downhill movements of the sheep drovers in my countryside imagination‭ ‬-‭ ‬when they reached the bottom of the road they turned left‭ (‬while I always turn right‭)‬.‭ ‬June spent all morning cleaning inside the skeleton of a whale that had been washed up years before:‭ ‬it had windows between ribs and a blowhole chimney‭ ‬-‭ ‬however no smoke ever rises now.‭ ‬I retreated outside when I realised that all my friends had images of tropical beaches instead of faces‭; ‬I aim to stay faithful to the image of an English garden glistening in the sun after a radioactive shower.‭ ‬I didn’t come in until quite late in the day‭; ‬June had become a carpet and the dog was vacuuming her‭ ‬-‭ ‬I pulled her up but nothing had been left underneath.

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