The constant winds of loneliness sculpts the solitary rock, encircled by infinite miles of sand, into increasingly freakish shapes.
Within time the entirety of it will come to bare down upon a point as fine as a pen nib. Inevitably it will fall and lie prone until gone- turned into more sand.
I dreamt of you… The dream ended-attempting to buy a train ticket in a great
hurry. Behind-a angry mob of a queue had formed, the ticket machine kept rejecting a £5.00 note.
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