prose perused, title pretentious
left the country for just long enough to feel bitter nostalgia on my return. read this line about my home town:
Dover an utter fright staffed by Bolsheviks. Versified cliffs as romantic as my arse and of a similar hue.
have started writing in short bursts after reading said journal entry from cloud atlas. hardly time for punctuation. life short.













Who is propogating these untruths? D’ya wanna go round his house with a sack of doorknobs and represent?