Mad as fricking hell.

in words

snap shots of conversation.
it had been an affair to remember,
i agree. almost indefinitely the sounds of your adolescent voice. and the whining the whining gets me ready to believe, even i can sing. but i cant and he however, can.
and then
My mobile telecommunicational device died but after two months of existing without wires I have plugged myself and returned to the realm of airwaves.
Cambridge then perhaps? Yeah ok..
Mid-Term break? Sounds perfect.
it was but a short trip because i decended upon Parisians lands and embarked on eating french stick for a week.
She was in the grip of an insuperable longing to fall. She lived in a constant state of vertigo.
i am leaving tomorrow which i cannot believe/ fathom to understand.
I hope the above sort of helps on your quest of arrival.
Dashing?
Why...I am never truly in a rush am I?
The proof is in tomorrow I'm sure.
my mind its splatted in too tiny fragments and laid out bare for your intrusive ocula's to devour.

i watch bricks crumble behind your eyes.

When I return to Falmouth, the note forms in books can take shape in our heads as we read type speak and eat.

What complete and utter joy. I shall see you there



you can make moments which never exsisted. exsist. in some form or another.