Tuesday 24th Hay, 2016
awake in the dark, chest is sore. A cold, caught in femwy
and imported tofrance And now, thoughts of death and
destruction in the bed in the low cave. A very beautiful
cave, slightly damp, twelve degrees or fifteen. Out at
the bed, too daloo and back to the bed with it's naming
blankets.
Hear alarms, it is the son's mobile telephone. He has set
the alarm with the intention of doing great things, but
now the bed is better.
Try to sleep on untill ten, try to force the demon
cold into retreat. Watch the light from the cave mouth
illumined the walls with many different qualities as
the day goes on, as the morning advances.
Leave the bed at eleven, a warm pullover to stay
hot in the sun. Dink coffee and hat.
A cold on a sunny day is misery, on a wet day there
would be an excuse to stay indoors
The cave in France, beauty. Nature for illness, for every
time may be the last time.
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