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Aug 2015
That moment when the lights turned red, the brake fluid gone, transmission dead and all we did was laugh.

The staff of life like a shepherd's crook reached out to hook us from a certain death.

And now I swallow every breath and every breath explodes inside reminding me that one ride more may be the ride that shuts the door so fatefully, so
gratefully left ajar for me.

Beauty,
but not in the eye is in the moments that pass us by.

I try to remember that.
More musings on the Central line.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
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