Memo – rie[n] – s

While contemplating what’s for lunch this evening, I put the week’s pieces together, along, as they occurred:

It was night,when he first heard about equivocation. Whatever point the strangers from a radio station half across the globe attempted to reach, missed out on a village in the midlands. The art of half-truth? Is righteousness something anyone should construct a script with? He couldn’t tell. A stranger enigma consumed him for this time.

“The key is in the flood,” he knew.

I have never approached the Mona Lisa closer than five meters or closer than the sketches of Da Vinci yesterday. A truly curious artist and in his small lines of animals, faces, words, you can see where his focal point would lie. It complimented the rest of the exhibition at the Turner:
 ”Curiosity – art and the pleasure of knowing”. 
I could not hide a cheeky smile when climbing up the stairs to the gallery, salt on my lips, the strong sea wind of that day in my hair. Even now my skin smells like Italian soil.

Sea side scenery gives me part of the power I cannot have.

Eight healthy red pepper plants and…well…Me

My worst nightmare has come true: French celebrations in Sandwich over the weekend. Le weekend…on the 8th and 9th June.

Still no holidays booked. I feel something lurking will make all the impatience worthwhile.

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