Fog mingles indiscriminately around town. Chimney tops are all that's visible from houses struggling to breathe. My wet lawn may be from overnight rain or the infinite number of miniature droplets which lie trapped in the air, waiting for a one-bar autumn sun to carry them away.
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- 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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