Wednesday, 4 September 2013

Linen & Thatch

'Into the private, dark, snuggling, rose-pink shire of sleep, Walter spun quick, looking-glass years of innocent childhood.  Under linen and thatch he wormed and stretched.  The glow from his Aladdin, paraffin, pig-roasting hot chimney burned the star of wonder on his bedroom ceiling.  A golden, buttermilk, wild rose, cuckoo spit summer melted, lugubrious, into him.'

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