I wake to empty boxes on Boxing Day. The fridge, full up on sheets of tin-foil, the table dressed for a party that's finished. Bin-bags of wrapping paper might blow down the street like urban, Crimbo tumbleweed. All is calm. All is not yet bright. Batteries on recharge.
Breathe.
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About Me
- Kidcobbler
- Spent nine months dreaming on my back. Opened up new horizons, if only horizontal. Woke up disabled, with a Blue Badge and bed hair. Walk with a limp and a stick. Cue the double entendré and the stick. Saving money on shoes. Spending it on thoughts. Overdrawn at the creative bank. Loan facility disabled. The irony! Stronger through weakness. Weaker through slogans. New journeys to be taken. Pop along. I'm off my back. I'm back.
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