Dribble

And this was the point at which he turned to me, a small amount of ice-cream clining to holis lower lip and forming a tiny dribble at the edge of he mouth, and he said to me: if I had a strategy for getting rubish out of sewage with a magnet what kind of person would I be.

Walking, walking in the sun, with the blue sky above, with the warm heat of the argument pushing my legs faster, heating my legs with the movement, with the sun.  And as the adrenaline of the argument dissipates into discomfort and then I come back, burnt.

My role
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June 23
There seems to be an inertia settling over my days, like a dust that for some reason is...