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26 Nov 2021

And soon, the other 'thing' will be finished

 And thus I shall be free to freely travel across any border. 




Did i say "tone", here?

Or was it in the "other place"

But all i know, to be completely sure. 

And done the work.... 

They balk at that, the 'work'...

Oh my my 'friend' he balks, but not so balking any more.

Because years i listen to him and maybe he knows by now.

His inaction, too. 


Oh i wish i could share

My poetry elsewhere.  Which just one...

Because it started the moment everything became so damn free. Even her...

That layby. That look. That twelve year old, "ma... who is this scruff not on a thousand pound bicycle, no one talks to strangers, here unless they have a pass...."

That week. 

Later.... 

That last five minutes. 



If one has a freedom' tune, and one knows why,

all that matters, she saw this, inspired by her word, 

thrice it says.

and at last i really do know why.....

There is the 'world' that includes the lies.

That any 'community' came together last year. 

But that is unimportant other than their lies. To make themselves look so good.


And their lies so many hors of them quite a few years of them. To make themselves look good.

The little Portuguese she gave me the end of the tale. Just three words.

In her language. Five in mine.

But she can know nothing - twelve years is nothing.


You can say it all, the relish, "one case in ..."

They need to have something to import to justify their import.


Static.

But there is only one mistake I need to correct. Just one image i saw 

A Nomad, looking hurt... I rarely watch a film, meant to be rather good, and cannot watch a film

If nothing else just curiosity...

But when you know something is so wrong, because you have spent ten years looking for a reason not to be so damn happy, a Nomad.

Land all so dear, London so here. Lost.

It is time to love only being lost. Again.

And be nowhere. Again.


I can't press the 'publish' button on this. Because this (that life) is so nothing. Even the 'Baby Figs' Nothing. And i believed in the Baby Figs.  

But i will only in that not one would understand, 'every day really is a new day'. Anything can happen. And i know the last of them, means tomorrow is one so clear this desk.

Top of the morning. Every morning, no matter what, even yesterday. Today.