Good Morning Doggerland!

Out where the lonely highways turn into winding dirt tracks stand the guards. Maybe God put them there to stop bleeding at the seams of reality. But we don't know. Maybe they're just a legend, a whispered rumour in the casbah, a drunken secret shared among brothers of the grape. Maybe just a mad glimpse in the shadows; something to shudder a lonely traveller; a voice in the fog to a pilgrim making progress. The guards creak, but they are fast, and they are merciless. They have metal in them. Steel; but not stainless. Stainful steel. Maybe. Maybe they run on electricity. No manufacturer's initials appear on their outer casing. The guards just are , and they inhabit fracture lines and awkwardness.

So beautiful; so intelligent; so thoughtful; so kind. But sometimes people are like that. They grow under protection, but have a strong inner spirit; something made of gold inside. Some kind of dignity. Asneth loved the handsome Joseph, reader of the Pharoh's dreams. Joseph loved the fair Asneth, daughter of Pentephres the priest. Both loved the true God. It is a happy story; but not without agony between sunset and sunrise. (People feared the night more then. It was darker; there were lions. Asneth was the fairest of all in a land known for the beauty of it's women. Asneth lived in a tower of ten rooms. Asneth had never been seen by a man. Joseph the Hebrew was young and righteous; the mighty one of God. Joseph wanted no woman who bowed to the stones; to the silent jackal-headed statues. He did not care to kiss lips that ate the bread of strangulation from the table of the false idols. Joseph had his principles! Asneth did not want him until she saw him. After she had, she wan...

A cup of tasteless fizz, pretends to be a coffee. A cup of tasteless fizz, as a substitute, for anything, that might, increase palpitations of the heart. They've got an awful lot of coffee in Brazil , but I've just got, a cup of tasteless fizz.

Outside the new, clean snow lies like cotton wool. Inside is a desk covered with rubbish; broken cup full of old coffee, unidentifiable wires with USB plugs, rusty keys, dead pens, broken staplers, loads and loads of paper, copier paper. Hidden in the paper mountain, like raisins in a huge papery dough; "Animals Without Backbones", "History of Western Philosophy", "Genetics", and "The Golem" by Collins and Pinch! The sun shines on the cottony snow.