The day is closing,the ticking clock echo's hollow beats, to this beat i begin to draw down the day each morsel having impressed me is neatly folded away perhaps to be mulled over in the future though more likely to be hosted in the forgotten room. The room where Goblins dance, the room where thoughts about this white screen before me gather to form some sort of order in which way this blog swings in the wind,each day is fleeting each day i double turn back, thinking is that a spider in the corner,then perhaps some order will come as the new year begins to gather pace.
Already Paddy's day is upon me as the hands on the clock climb towards 11pm..my Australia clock tells me it is six in the morning in down town Perth two years ago i would be sitting in a bar dribbling beer, crushed ice is the only answer if i try to remonstrate,better to run with the tide and play Chess with King Canute, far better to shelter from the wrath for a short while rather than drown in foaming unanswered questions. For questions will always be here on the morrow.