Wednesday, 11 August 2010


Walked all day (in France), blisters on my feet: dossed-down for the night, under the shelter of a polythene sheet. Slept soundly to the sound of rain.
Next morning. I open my eyes – I’m on my back – but I think I’m still dreaming; my blister’s abandoned my foot and is threatening me - from the ceiling: dangerously bloated, full of piss (instead of puss) and about to burst.

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