Now...
if i can back to the night before last
Her blood curdling chatter ..
I recorded as a kind of real tragedy...
it will be here later or tomor...
then we start the real work... bad arthouse performance piece in audio sat outside one of their libraries of fat smug librarians top of voice competing with fat lost junkies and pissheads...
they actually pretend don't exist..
as (just like in HAy so so predictably 20 years ago) if anyone knew the truth.. their property prices would sink to the bottom just as her rot hull did...
cos it's all a sham....every single sad word
i the lucky one i certainly know nothing....except...one thing
One "terrible" truth as i told her (the nuance of that word The Sprout gave me)
in the Woodlanders woods...
But i didn't tell her the greatest real compliment even more 'terrrr eeehhh bluhhhh"
i probably never will.
And it doesn't matter as she knows what was at the end of The Odd essay.. thirteen Oct...
It was two days before i could even open the first one inbound.....i am not a robot. Nor entirely on autopilot..
But i am now... forever.
T'twas indeed ...bridged... when it could never
Bea.
