Candlemass.


The electronic touch pad springs to attention, awaiting my finger prints to tell of another by gone day and reveal whispers of tomorrow’s intention.

Flashback: (it is still today though yesterday because I have yet to sleep this night.)

Sometimes, like right now I am unsure about the positioning of full stops with brackets, (inside or outside).

My head is filled with clumsy future plans. This way, that way, someway, one way, many ways.

I’m addicted to carbs, caffeine and convenience.

Snow covers Switzerland with -8 and cold can kill, especially when it becomes too cold for Siberians.

Hideous spring fashion has occupied the high street. Thankfully, I would never suit that large, clanky, awkward, gold necklace, nor those ridiculous, instep crippling wedge heeled shoes, (though I did pick them up just to check).

Again, the full stop, bracket dillema.

I considered buying a new purse from Primark.  I bet the child who made it is not rich.  I bet the child who made it does not have a purse. I bought hairslides and bracelets for £1.00 instead.  Hypocrite.

A huge seagull flew toward my windscreen. It swerved, so I didn’t have to. Later, I couldn’t find my car in the car park. It was clean and polished and free of gull poo.

I daydream about nightdreaming, but what I would really like to do is nightdream about daydreaming.

The light is returning.

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