Things bubble up and stick in my head sometimes. I don't know if it is meaningful in any way. But I keep seeing myself as a small child in the country, all unknowing, being driven off to church on a Sunday morning along dusty roads. It was largely wasted on me though I think the message 'you are your brother's keeper' got stuck in there, more or less permanently. I also keep remembering being at King's Cross, in the early hours of the morning, in the company of friends and strangers. There was no message there, the whole thing was totally devoid of content. I wasn't in the least bit comfortable with it.
A chronicle of small beer.
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Peeling the Onion
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