Back into the mainstream.
At 1620 I realised I didn't blog today. Too busy with nothing happening. I slept well in the Z-bed in the spare room as we've AirBNB in my room. Apparently I was making noise at 5:30, but I had to stir mother at 8 so she wasn't so disturbed. Back in Leeds now to spend money I don't have in the hope of conviviality, but I've something covering my face: fifty years of dust... How do the crows living in cities feel about their relatives rurally, who live in murders differently, do they have a concept of a city or the countryside? I don't want to go home. It's not my home. Nothing is. These crows circle in the same manner, but over a different carrion. It's not 6. I've a heap of chard to drown myself in, but I don't want to go home. It's the end of the week and the end of a long 10 days being different with Michael. Suddenly I am missing him, it and them. Those moments. I am rock solid from English Breakfasts, but I turned the corner: if I didn...