Assuming, assuming.... that is what they all do now...

 perhaps the addiction to one dimension of these things.

No nuance.

I still have not looked.

All i need to know is that last year - was it late summer, as i began the other one, or rather the one.

I had to hide. A 'diary' though i never sit to diarise, simply the fleeting things that came in day by day i could recall - so much to recall.

Because the whole world in a state of shock and crisis. I know one person  - living the middle of nowhere, could not keep up with such new wonderous moments...

But one moment.

Well.. i am loyal and always will be.

That place i write my real feelings - no holds barred, no invitations, if others find it it has nothing to do with me. I don't pimp and need no pimp.

I only write. And sometimes well. 

But i wrote today and wrote well. 

To the one whom features in the other, despite her 'Godzilla' of a man, in a place where woman and man cannot ever be real new friends...

I found the best I ever made. We made it the best there ever was....

And when i need her now - she can 'take it like a man' as they say...

"you know me.... i cannot not tell a true story...  and i cannot not pursue only authenticity even if....and now i may need your help ALL of you failed to ever provide and thats why i must leave this land.....as you know..."

Now thta isn't too flowing.

The other one was.

Then one day I read a word "poignant" and form then i was as if licensed to take many more images. In fact had a whole large folder of new imagery.  "poignant pics".

Poetically celebrated on my real... Homeric odyssey in very alive verse  inspired by the sublimest year and times ever known.... from April 2020. But i need that to be between me and the gods. Alone. No one else would 'get' it...  And
jealousy is such a base emotion.

And too much happens such as i cannot even remember which disc it is in. poignant pics. But i will find it soon.

But then it was also in some ways liberated. Freed...

There is Great European Literature, and George Elliot...

And then there is great European literature that really does unlock the rusty old lock ...

And like some English woman addicted to the habit, something may be assumed.... 

Nope.

Only a man of letters can truly state what the answer was with so few letters. Bernhard in one sentence gave justification, of what any man should do...

And i know that only I can decide which key i shall try and open the lock with.... no one else. No one else ever has heled so no one else ever must.  But a version that is still true is now down in my notes. And I live by my notes.

When one has a year or two so absurdly full of so much to note....from the beginning of the greatest slow down and glorious year and and rethink in history, even if Mrs Moo knows our thinking failed....to change a thing...for her and hers 

In fact... that is the point. The many year so called friend asked so would you be there to say something nice and real... he did not even know it may be his duty. Her on the other hand.....I know she could actually be trusted to tell the truth...

 no matter what.

That is farmers for you ladies of the land.... some. 

And she knows my truth that there's only one i wish to walk my lands with. 

And emailed in world record time. Solidarity ....earned. 

Oh how droll and cantfilled vanity personified  i sound.  

I just aint got the TIME to get to the folder inspired by err...

cos... 

The Great Philosopher.  Will I even get a thank you and i forgot. But i did not need to remember. On the front of his copy from me of the greatest of all European Literature, is a picture.  It is of two young women. It is an old photograph.  

Their expressions are - without expression. They are nothing and in nothing they are absolutely everything perfect and sublime. They are unknowable and say all. 

I realised where i had seen that expression before even if it had to have a label and a name to introduce itself to someone.  Clearly irrelevant by the expression.  And the blue is very blue.  Or is it? But it's the expression. It could mean everything and nothing. 

And i shall have to come back to this maybe or maybe never.  Because even the look i look for so often and so rarely find... must not distract from the sequence that some years i know must be kept to... even if i am the most organised person in the world especially knowing only a few days ago really really... those little plastic dinghies are coming the wrong way.....for sure. There cannot be any doubt. And i am ready at the drop of a bobble hat, asylum. 

And she can stick me in with the cows over La Manche.... whatever it takes, i will get there...one day. 

footnote, picture, a scrap of paper in her pile...

"4th April..poignant pics RM.." I suppose it was there a few days earlier, maybe that day, amazing i can still see her wall. If English it would have been jealously - errata i do not know what word there is for whatever they feel as it makes no sense never has, hidden from view. Mine all mine...  not for you you are not allowed to know the 'real' me.... even if i showed you a little of what was behind my mask...

To be continued. I only write before the dawn...usually.