Today as i dropped someone off to their church of prayer.... leaving myself an hour to kill a quick stroll through the cobbled streets of this misfit of an old cotton mill town, a grubby sister of the big city of Manchester to perhaps sip a pot of black tea..scribble a while in my snail journal, whilst God talked to the chosen ones, only to stumble across the large old door closed, a cheeky request in the sweet shop across the way told stories of floods in the night across the wooden floors a repair cost to vast in simply pots of tea money takings, the owners of the flood turned a blind eye...." So you think you can tell heaven from hell "...means perhaps the end for the tea house...a thought what's going to happen to the lone busker whom played each Friday, caught in a rain drop along with a heavy sigh from within me...." i wish i wish you were here "...Left only retreat as the Saturday answer..
On wild moment...."..The 60's was the age of idealism. We believed the world would get better if we tried. People today don't believe that,and i think that's very sad. "
Haruki Murakami....13th October 2018...Saturday's Guardian Review.