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| 02:03am 19/06/2013 |
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there's a place in my mind that the maps left behind It's lost to me now, sailed away like it was the ship and I was the bay |
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| 01:58am 19/06/2013 |
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He checked his postbox less each day untill he'd skip days and then weeks. And when the letters started coming they lay there, the pile growing untill the neglected postbox grew weary, til ting to one side it began to lean itself on the fence. |
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| 10:51pm 22/04/2013 |
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I really wish you could put everyone on pause and get on with stuff for a while - my guilt at being awful at see everyone i need/should/want to see is immense. |
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| 10:42pm 30/01/2013 |
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The words blur under my eyelids, under hours of sleep - you'd think piling up the nod would have the reverse effect of sleep deprivation. But no, quite the same - except less there. more somewhere else. did you think i had gone, blinked away? she running down a corridor and he's wondering why - he's invisible after all. isn't he? And it makes me wonder if the footsteps she shuddered down the hallway bounce so willingly off all of them many, many walls. would his? is he silent? he must be.
Shaun Tan puts it perfectly in that he is somewhere else yet quite here in his drawings. I will write you your bed time story dear adult. What does that mean?
Earlier I thought about the precious nature of time, tick tick, it just is flashing by. I often feel like time is flour - and i am holding a sieve - and it must be so so very soft as it doesn't even clump up, it just keeps gushing through. I'm not sure if it matters - as I then thought the flour isn't stopping, it keeps comings. So my uneasy urgency should feel reassured. |
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| 06:24pm 27/11/2012 |
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is it losing your mind or finding your mind. |
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| 01:49pm 27/11/2012 |
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familiar stranger |
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| 10:06pm 21/11/2012 |
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with boots too big and doorways too tall. |
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| 10:06pm 21/11/2012 |
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when i was little i never had a clock. |
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| A private life. |
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| 11:30am 25/09/2012 |
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The compelling story of a man who could disappear, the lives he spied on and weaved between. His fights with morals and madness.... |
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| 11:49pm 22/08/2012 |
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note to self: hidden faces (Heidi Lender) |
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| 11:04pm 18/08/2012 |
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and written on the doorway was 'I'm busy being a doorway. What are you doing?' |
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| 11:49pm 17/08/2012 |
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I know this is stupidly depressing but I feel like such a failure and so lonely. I really hope the new era of my life about to begin changes both these things. Feel like i've going about this pointless life all wrong. |
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| 11:49pm 17/08/2012 |
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I know this is stupidly depressing but I feel like such a failure and so lonely. I really hope the new era of my life about to begin changes both these things. Feel like i've going about this pointless life all wrong. |
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| 09:54pm 17/08/2012 |
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She eyed up the battered leather cover of his diary, just sitting on the chair. 'I'd like to keep a track of my life' He nodded with closed ears. 'I just can't seem to find the right page' she said, almost to herself.
She walked home, having taken an umbrella incase it rained, yet it snowed and she felt odd with the implement. It made perfect sense to shelter herself, yet something felt so peculiar - like drinking tea from a bowl she thought, amused.
When she got home she felt a strange sense of not feeling a home. This was something that often occurred in her first moments of returning from company, she felt unsettled in the loneliness and sat at her writing desk promptly. Picking a particular black pen from the left drawer she returned to her last written sentence and started writing as if she was reciting something she already knew. She returned to her characters and felt content. It occurred to her as she scribbled away that every time she'd ever tried to find a page to write about her life, she'd found herself running away with other character's lives entirely. |
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| 08:32pm 17/08/2012 |
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Elsker felt seperate and singular. No matter what family she might have, what friends and whether she shared her bed or not; she felt like such a single entity. Her eyes moved towards the photograph framed on her dressing table, a family portrait, yet the similarity in all their faces felt lost in the differences. |
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| 03:26am 17/08/2012 |
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she turned away. thinking herself a lot more illusive than she was. |
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| 10:51pm 09/08/2012 |
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Write more Sophie. |
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| 02:25am 17/07/2012 |
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Life is so big. In that we can fit in so many life times. That feels strange. |
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| 02:27am 27/06/2012 |
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I'd like to be proud of myself hmm |
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| 01:49am 11/06/2012 |
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I left you so many clues.
The mistake is to think this is a hunt that ends in treasure. The clues are the best treasure there is.
And don't get me wrong, there's a lot right with that. |
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