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Still Life (still alive!) with Overripe Persimmon, Potato and Poetry, these have all had a part in my, actually quite cheerful, morning so far
eccentricity is often but the allowing of the untethered?
Oh January, such ungainly insomnia… awakening, once more, at absurd O’Clock, I lie overlong in a tepid bath
so to soothe smooth something of those unruly thoughts… at first crepuscular dusk, then a light which summons itself with a can’t be arsed shrug
announcement of drear grey to us the still breathing

i like the lurk of larkin shadows in the pic!

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