Super Badger
Woke up, a
whole ten and one half hours after the day had begun. One lazy bit of a busy
Sunday. The big picture is in my head but the bits keep falling under the
mind-sofa (represents an obstruction here, not comfort.) Mr says we shall go to
the woods to find some refreshment of purpose and to fell trees with our bare
hands because we are quite Super.
On the way
home I think about the old path we found and how deep it is pushed into the
ground. Once upon a time the king of the badgers reached the massive age of one
thousand years and it was time for him to travel out of his woodland kingdom.
As he walked, his wiry buttocks dragged tracks, and these became our country
roads. Because: an entirety of logical sense is not required to enrapture.
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