Sunday, 21 September 2014

Exploring the Deepest Reaches of the Sadness Garden

Wrapped in our lethargy quilts, my brother and I venture forth into the October day. My quilt smells like medicine, as does my balaclava, and my lips are encrusted with dried Marmite. We are tethered to the hoose. My brother carries his Ghostbusters' skateboard.

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