Even if i know one should never even utter a word to the English all the immediate assuming..
I am only interested in previous region twenty five years trapped within - well not 'within', as skirting their fringes, and people watching, and then DOing eco projectiles.... one knew
Forget it
No 'hopemaking'
Even, or especially, him.
Him....
comes and takes over the fine old cheap charity shop....
And sets up a so called bookshop
(even if no locals read a book, ever, in thar sadly redneck smalltown right on the border...)
He... has all the neon bicycle kit .... all the right 'rig'...and in his shop window the second i saw it, i knew... but
I mean 2020 you are nice to the immo just begun..
Bad luck
I know that nobody lingered at his threshold for often twenty minutes which was about as much of his undergarment, closedness, one could bear, giving him the local INFO!
The good info. The good walks - the one beginning in the small town 'of walking' nobody ever used...
The massive paradise bluebell wood only 5km walk ... nobody except me even knew existed, and in the spring i would most days meander up off the 'pathway' into without the need for any ideological fakeword...
a real hill person doesnt recognise boundaries. Ever...
Which is why he CAME here but every smallest body twitch in him was boundary...
Anyway in short they PROJECT a certain anarchy (i am not if you knew with old man Ralph 50 years ago humans fuck the environment as i am quite sure they did in 'indigenous' times too, and still do, you need lore, to stop the folk....)
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But you never actually even see them off the little path that stays around their little town....
Where the girls - just the right ones who wear just the right Glasto garb....
will have seen the fake book they display in their fake bookshop window...
Anyway the 'genre' began long before this latest round of coffee table nonsense for Notting Hill runaways when their drug dealer realises they cant pay his bill....
There was a certain kind of him, indeed two, kinds.. pretendly kind..
The first wave in the 80s just a few ..
And then come the 2000s well if he has been gobbling 'party drugs' since about three obviously he has ...issues
actually rather well described in yesterday's afternoon play.
Thing is.... it's really only an English thing. And as 'he' dominates, yet hides himself so well, how on earth does one explain this to a fine pair of foreign journeywomen..
From saner lands which didnt have as much " everybody's free" sheep behaviour for cash...
I don't know why i bother but i get slightly inspired by history rewritten...
Which will die with me as NONE of them even allow any 'bad energy'of telling the truth of why their boyfriends were such jerks, and ...
In fact just one 'place' - the one on the hill 3 km tough walk from us....
Did represent all of it
" ... there is only love vibes up at Ross's... solstice parties.... " funny that how living in the middle of nowehere 'deliberately', where they could have chucked their litter bags of cans guzzled on the way up to their small boutique raves for the most 'aware' inner circle cliques of the whole region..
(exactly those who in Swestershire gravitate to places like Gwerk..)
into a hedge and nobody would have known for at least 6 mths
they would chuck them into our farmyard... the only one open space along that route up to their little hiltop pilgrimage place
Anyway all that matters is to KNOW where one belongs.
In that perfect conversation, nowhere
Except with a couple who's minds do indeed have exactly the right space time coordinates.
And as no English could understand the difference.
This is only absurdism as no foreigner is going to care about something written in their holiday destination.
