Basically, there’s a kind of literary orchestration going on inside of my head, least that’s the way I see it. And when I may just least expect it, when I really do reckon the orchestra have opted on shutting the hell up and taking a well-earned break, like they did yesterday, suddenly… I see a pub, I see a desperate looking and wrinkle-attacked old man on the street, an entirely separate individual girl who appears somewhat.. perplexed with things. Ok, maybe she was just thinking over her shopping-list, but that’s where I tend to take things to the page 🤷‍♂️ Title-wise today, Easons was a good help

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