Thursday, 8 July 2010

When you cease to exist, who will you blame?

There's something about listening to an aged troubadour sob his heart out which is comforting. The imagery - blindfolds and diamonds, angels and marching men. Like the world ending.

I saw a dead hedgehog on the way home today. I told Vivi to look away. Biggest hedgehog I've ever seen, and lots of guts and folds of bloody mass and brain next to its twisted neck. I once had a pet hedgehog called Grace. She was tiny and adorable and perfect and knew my smell, she knew when it was me. We'd rescued her.

Living through a pear. I hate count downs. I hate that I have limited time.

What was it you wanted?

I'm like a tear drop at the moment. That's how I feel. Good, bad, whatever. I don't mind, I'm not moaning about it. It's my turn to cry awhile anyway, isn't it.

Don't.

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