Middle of the morning, as the sun sits on the edge of the horizon and pulls out a long drawl. Whispering and waiting for the break into the start of a brand new day. Over the line and sitting pretty, aglow with the burning sensation after a night of many chilli seeds between the gums and through the teeth. Cold and hot at the same time, it's a veritable swag of temperate zones coursing up and down. Only beads to show for the path that breaks.
Consequences of fare. All up for the down time, an explosion in expulsion. Emergency evacuations outlining a ring of fire with legs and backsides finding the shortest path toward agony. Gurneys lie far beyond the reach and expanse of this plain plain.
Inside to the outside and never quite of the same sight.
Written on Wednesday, 16 January 2008