My Diary: The Philosophy Of Half Eaten Sandwiches

Back in my studio and to celebrate I walked a new picture and then painted the dog.‭ ‬Cymbals clashed as little figures scrambled about in the space above my head‭ (‬my head grew big and small and then shook itself like seaweed‭); ‬I tried to restore some kind of order but then noticed thick black lines being drawn in what should be vacant space:‭ ‬I numbered and named as many as I could although,‭ ‬hopeless as I am,‭ ‬I then had to rub several out again.‭ ‬June came home temporarily and showed me words written on her sandwich‭; ‬I countered by showing her a calendar with all the days rearranged.‭ ‬This will mean what will happen tomorrow already happened yesterday.‭ ‬She left again with bite marks in the bread‭ ‬-‭ ‬which,‭ ‬of course,‭ ‬made the message undecipherable.


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