Wednesday, 31 October 2012


I want to move here and live in the hills and have chickens and goats and never type another key stroke again. I want to write, I want to run mercilessly, I want to get lost. I want to detach, to be forgotten for a while and to understand man's place in the forest and field and sky and sea.

Only the Davsters can come. And maybe my piano. And Shakespeare. BUT THAT'S IT.

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