What indeed would those poets scribble about today if they still stood in flanders field....This print of a Wilfred Owen poem i stumbled across in a small village train station waiting room yesterday surrounding this poem school children had written thank you notes and names of local men whom had fallen.
perhaps tomorrow i will rise from this weeks melancholy madness..Rememberance week is not the best to dwell on a birthday, think it's about time i moved it to a summer month when running naked screaming through a wood is possible.
So Goeth...
