Lifting the lid off the tub of yoghurt, a fleeting sight of what hath fought the fight in the light of the might. To follow the essence of content and a running desire for the cessation of spiders on the skin. Shown here is but only a year running back from today. Hunted are the months beyond.
Socks make for essential packing when visiting château Point Prideaux.
Ashes silt the crashes over the course of the Christmas to New Year’s period with the national road toll charring 39 across Australia.
Futures keep happening within the grand scream of things. A scram to stream the never-ending steam of boiled cabbage left to fester. There on the table top. There and off the edge it drops.
Time it right and the tail end with ANZAC day holiday nets 10 days off. Weaken it some with a day off and that’s 16, the same gone forever for the Easter period before clocking out and down for the road tolls.
Screaming agony interrupts the Christmas to New Year’s period as the national holiday road toll spanning Australia’s coasts eases up and claims only 37 spillovers for the stretch.
Idle a few seconds at the first window, staring into the stock boxes and someone’s elbow, before rolling to the next window because some fast food joints don’t use all their windows. Pay, grab the food, drive off. Another lunch served. Another plastic straw you never asked for.
Baked right into the eBay flea market code is the surrender to the waves of Chinese wannabe/knock-off products polluting the search results with riff-raff.
Not even a cricket ball shaved on one side of the road will tamper the spirits floating off into the nether. Easter is a choc late but high on the 15 out on the boundaries.
Another day another data breach, and on goes through the wallet to swap out the credit cards while they wait on for replacements. Cash-only is the chaser, and the primary reason to keep up the breaches.
Literally a bumper to bumper to bumper fire and embers sale on mortality as the close out of 2017 renders a high yield crop of 70 spread out across the nation's road over Christmas and New Year's.
“M_mng down at Saville Row” said the scrap on the ground. There, in the midst of nothing else to do, was something to rubberneck about. The A and Is missing from tears in the paper, pocked with pin pricks.
Sunset snaps on synapses via optic nerves nervous already about degenerated maculae. Light sloughs at the interior posterior dulling keen vision – keen in the British sense, mind: of enthusiasm, eagerness.