Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Saturday, 13 August 2011
The ghost of carnival past and the detritus of the Muse.
Bottle tops pressed into the tarmac by crouds at past Carnivals, Powis Square, Notting Hill.
The Muse left in a hurry leaving me with nothing to do but write poems about ballet shoes.
Bottle tops pressed into the tarmac by crouds at past Carnivals, Powis Square, Notting Hill.
The Muse left in a hurry leaving me with nothing to do but write poems about ballet shoes.
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