Not quite there yet

To the bathroom and back through the lounge to the kitchen, on to the balcony, something is wrong with me, walked miles and miles and not got anywhere, not seen anyone, never did anything and if I did it wasn’t me, a peculiarity from a previous existence, deny it all, but this is different, there’s…

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‘In the French style’

Seberg (mon amour) from the Novel by Shaw, flawless direction by Parrish rich and my heart once vaguely unruly becomes lawless meet me down in Montmartre let us sip absinthe and talk…

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