Sunday, 15 November 2009
Everything is true
I am warm and languid and drunk on sunshine. Perfect Sunday complete with frolicking pink cheeked children on thick luxurious grass, big tasty meals (not cooked by me), icecreams on the steps. Lying back on my hammock, one leg trailing off the side to keep it swaying and a cold bottle in my hand with a summerful slice of lime wedged in the neck.
Too drowsily full to contemplate writing anything of meaning.