My Diary: Tearing Out All The Pages Which Have My Name On Them

I woke to see a partially shrouded figure reading to me from a book and then saw myself getting up holding onto a stained and ragged page.‭ ‬I was still holding hands with my imagination when the little people arrived,‭ ‬their ears tall enough to look in a first floor window.‭ ‬We visited the spotted cat‭ (‬but not the tabby dog‭) ‬with clean sheets of paper and a step ladder of plastic animals.‭ ‬Coming home as space conquistadors in a galactic wagon train we held onto each other with paper boy hands‭ ‬-‭ ‬as usual I missed the first edition.‭ ‬After a break standing among the footprints of unknown soldiers we all went out to eat at a point where supposedly rude and polite tongues meet.‭ ‬I called it the etiquette crossroads while the others called‭ ‬it a roundabout and knocked a coconut off the back of a seaside donkey.

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