He was standing in an old road, rutted and ancient, that wound up a black hill towards the sky, where a great flock of black birds was gathering. The birds were like black letters against the grey of the sky. He thought that in a moment he would understand what the writing meant. The stones in the ancient road were symbols foretelling the travelers journey.
01 February 2010
The Work-a-day World
"You gotta drag yourself to work, drug
yourself to sleep, you’re dead from the neck up by the middle of the week." The Clash- All The Young Punks
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