watercolour and ink on paper
Tick the ticks
Like an advert of a young slip of a thing dancing, gliding between flowers skipping down the path towards the gentle flowing river for her morning swim, so it was that I fitted like a little bee between conversations barely time to tick the ticks on my chart, or count the inventory on my list. Just flit between conversations and sell, sell, sell.
And together we were reading a tale I was pretty sure I was the only one who had experiences similar to the protagonist, but I didn't say anything about my experience, all I tried to do was give my reaction to the text. But the problem was I thought the protagonist was a nob, an arse, a bit of a self-pitying, over aggrandising dick who felt himself superior for his intelligent thought, a bit like me.
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Cookie
Baking cookies, carefully measuring the ingredients but then banging in a little more of...
