Welcome to the attic of my mind. Mind the stairs, click the light on and have a rummage around my thoughts on writing, the art of everything second-hand, the natural world, music . . . just about everything. Probably not much about sport.
Monday, 8 March 2010
And then . . .
It was so cosy in bed—just another half an hour . . . the same dream again. Worse though, a dreadful nightmare: trees bent under the weight of snow on snow, all birds had buggered off (where do birds go anyway?) almond blossom - a distant memory; my car had become a woolly blob. Woke, phew, awful dream. Must really now open the shutters . . . odd, seems incredibly quiet outside.
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