My Diary: Finding A High Place To Fall On

I rose though the lid of an old fashioned milk churn while June was still dreaming of black and white cows.‭ ‬My to do list formed a high altitude contrail which to my great satisfaction was crossed by an even longer one as a London bound commuter snaked by,‭ ‬his head replaced by a noughts and crosses game‭ ‬-‭ ‬I then entered the bus through its gaping bullfrog mouth.‭ ‬I got out via its readily unhinged tongue and walked the short distance to see Bombadil Tom‭; ‬who was lying on a slice of bread and conjuring up pictures of rivers which talked to each other in a distinct Wiltshire dialect.‭ ‬I went out into the garden to walk straight and curved lines and met up again with a longer beard than mine at the bus stop‭ ‬-‭ ‬two ladies were balancing the souls of non-humans on their outstretched fingers.

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