did you dream of evil last night, for evil it was.

pocked, bleeding and dead.           back broken.

this morning the garden is damp, a mole  died


plans for a new path are growing, yet there was



last night.


a shortened version of blackberry pips, and phillip. she made

me bread, a reject of her former days. with banana and flour.

cake is good for you it has eggs ,               not sure how many .

he seems to write different now, i wish that i did, i do try and

sometimes it works.

the pips do their job, sticking round teeth, helping us go natural.

i found one in my ear.



ah the sea, the sand, it comes in bottles now, dearer than the cheaper stuff.

i had not met her before, went in on the off chance. waited a while till she

was free.

she did it different, said nice things about my skin. in a small way she gave

me confidence.

i bought the quiche, sat in the cathedral grounds.

used the salt spray, and did not die.

of it


(adding yet.)

there is no number on my gate, the house has a name. the lane

does not.

liking labels, i also like numbers on things, denoting nothing

in particuar.

she once said that though the name sounds romantic in it’s



it does not. she is correct.

the box is emptied, found numbers hid to please us, come


a worry is will the colour run, & if it does will we mind ?

the larger road here is also numbered, and lettered.   a470.


i come to you each month to leave a prayer to be said. i have no faith yet live in hope. #chestercathedral

look at mosaics, oh absalom, my son, my son.

wonder where the justice is. i come to think on things. each time i am challenged as to my reasons, & do i have a ticket?


it is enough to put some off from visiting at all. only the brave. thank you.


pray for them, all is in disorder.


archaic or dialect question, in appropriate.                         a lowly start

with slight misgivings,  i come arrived from the country, an immigrant


if the task came to me unlikely, i should sew profusely.  a safe bet in that

something grows decently.

do you know how to stitch a lie, when all about grow honesty?  mine was

white last year,

now nothing germinates.

the question is irreverent, no disrespect meant.  forgive me, this is the second

time. this time,

i shall stay.

despite my nationality.


one dot.

not two?

you say such nice things sir, while you are one in many,



some struggle with the work each day, yet carry on, what

else can be done?

working in the field is good & honest.

quiet day with bread, purposeful baking, folding and pleating.

tomorrow is the run of the mill type daily.

as before, this is no metaphor.

where is the self worth sir, when we look full long in the mirror, see

darkly the things of youth, darkly those ideas & happenings not

written of here.

no guardian review.

it has not been the

experience we hoped for. we shall wear pyjamas. the book remains



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