Sunday, 28 August 2011

For The Desert Moon

"Evening fell calm and overcast, with a blurred orange sunset.

I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The moon does that to me, it always looks familiar, long lost, like the face of a dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifiting across space, most of all the living and dying and the heartbreak that went a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify to this feeling."

Extracts from "He Was a Most Peculiar Man" by Wilfred Pickles




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