My Diary: The Frog Prince Has To Kiss Himself

I got up wearing a hat kindly given to me by an aide to napoleon on the eve of the battle of Waterloo‭ (‬or was it Victoria‭)‬.‭ ‬The rest of my clothes dated from the multi-dimensional wars of the Thirty Fifth Century.‭ ‬June followed me downstairs with the names of several saints written on her dressing gown.‭ ‬I touched the middle of Saint Catherine before exiting the flying house to fall like acid rain on a small copse I caught instead of the bus.‭ ‬I travelled into the spiral pattern countryside where I talked with a large wood‭ (‬in his younger days a forest‭) ‬about green leaves turning brown in autumn.‭ ‬I said there would always be new shoots in Spring as the world itself didn’t exist only our interaction with it.‭ ‬After this we parted like the tributaries of a once mighty river.‭

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