It seems that today I must imagine a purpose. Earlier the Cowboy walked past The Peach with his shirt ironed and buttoned, umbrella clasped firmly under his left arm. I stared out the window suddenly conscious of my faded pyjamas and the general disarrangement of my hair. I have been wandering in the hallway clutching a book.
I will dress in my cleanest clothes, I will brush my hair. I will walk with a long stride and a large umbrella to fetch the papers and have a coffee, I am imagining that this is my purpose.
I will dress in my cleanest clothes, I will brush my hair. I will walk with a long stride and a large umbrella to fetch the papers and have a coffee, I am imagining that this is my purpose.
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