My Diary: As Always It Is Better To Write A Book Than Read It

June stood like an obelisk as I went out with a friend to a land of rainbows,‭ ‬watching single spots of rain as if they were falling punctuation marks‭ ‬-‭ ‬when I got out of the car the sky was unreadable.‭ ‬I talked to a sundial even though it was overcast and then went back inside the pamphlet house‭ (‬it was nestled between several rows of novels,‭ ‬both soft and hardback‭)‬.‭ ‬My friend returned with sacks of‭ ‬disembodied voices in the boot of his Assyrian war chariot and I returned home to find June had gone‭; ‬although her pointed shadow remained.‭ ‬I went to question a questioner before settling in a chair and making up shapes for the remainder of the afternoon.‭ ‬It wasn’t long before the shapes were making up themselves and I could sit back and let them question my very existence.


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