ANDREA-SCRIBBLES.BLOGSPOT.COM
scribblesSaturday, 30 August 2014. We’ve got all day, he says,. We'll take it steady, stop for tea. There’s no rush. He savours each word like a lozenge. Before letting it loose. As they fall from his lips. He returns to his paper,. A blanket of little black script. With the words still warm on his tongue. And through half an eye,. He watches her lift the bubbling kettle. Outside, the car sits, waiting. Packed full with pickles and pillows. And bottles of pills. His hands meet as he turns the page. I tiptoe past ...
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