This morning it made sense. Loud bright, beautiful, ugly, mad and sane. It was totally logical; straightforward and sensible. Promptly, between the hours of 6 and 9 I stopped a festival with my mind, drove a car up a river, killed a friend of mine, was killed by a said friend, cooked lamb shanks, owned a 5-story terraced house, owned the same house but 2-stories, owned the same house but 7-stories, lost my hearing, played with lego, was lego, couldn’t stop singing ‘I will survive’ and couldn’t remember how to sing ‘I will survive’ onstage at aforementioned festival.
It made sense at the time. The clock was wrong, I was an hour late. It made sense when I was too busy, rushing out the door, to realise. It made sense when I was throwing food into my bag, it made sense running to the station. I only realised on the train.
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