i, this particular i, shall drink this, this particular coffee

the task is epic, the figure lies sleepy. unlike the depicted, who sleeps the sleep of the just, or of the exhaustedly adapted corrupt. to remedy my bleached eyes and tingling head, a cafetiere. oh me! how large is my canvas, when i have seven thousand words to play with?

i shall sit and think fondly of sleep while i write. acutely aware of absence, but i shall not absent myself. the task at hand is in hand, in good hands. perhaps we shall convene again when i have dreamed.

Oliver Rashbrook : 19 Jun 2006 20:16 |  Comments (0) |  Report a problem