We have built so many mirrors, there are no windows to shatter. Having recently experienced a kind of bereavement (if the death of one’s love life could be considered thus), whilst, for some only peripherally understood reason, listening to the justifiably underappreciated album Racially Yours , and feeling like bombing the internet or some such futile act, I find I’m writing from a nagging sense of unfinished business, the blaring klaxon call of duty still audible in the distance behind the weirdly sexual and racist lyrics of The Frogs, rather than for the love of writing and of sharing my own strong feelings towards Jeff VanderMeer. In fact, I could just wipe this blog clean and fuck off to live in Eswatini where according to David from Eswatini beers are £1.50 quid a pint and steaks a mere £2.50 quid. But as someone, who was until recently in my life, once told me, I’m a responsible man who wouldn’t fuck off and leave his kids behind, whether literal or figurative. I paraphrase but
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