Let ter.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Dear Pipey and the twin,
Thank you for your gracious invitation. I would love to fly to the village and smoke when i can, but the tangles of the city have lodged themselves deep into me. I'll break free and come as soon as i can.
Last night a fire broke out in Bob the butcher's shop and it took them three noodles with a broken hose to put it off, and Bob seems to be broken and gutted looking at the charred remains. The old whore lounging by the pier died last week too. They said she balded herself and ripped off a ear before she jumped to her death, something to do with a long standing belief in the end of the world according to her book of experiences. Strange book i tell you.
In other news, the merchants from the far east came again with a string of slaves tied together and fed with dates to command a better price this time around. No one seemed interested to bring the desert sands to their homes and so the merchants left, with just one slave less who didn't like the dates and the whips they gave him. Polly came around many afternoons ago with more wrinkles on her mortgaged face than the dead shoes she was loaned for the summer, Its a pity she doesn't like cupcakes anymore.
Thanksgiving is soon approaching and the dogs in the corner seem to be feeling it too. In the meantime you could also come down to the city, because I'm always here and the smoke here is in abundance.
Pollution, gutted shops and otherwise.
Until the needle tells otherwise,
Theo the greek
Song Update - Bike - Pink Floyd
Labels: Soundscapes, Surreal
