Wednesday 22 March 2017, New Cross Gate

First Act:  Booze, backless sofa.

Lure.  Encountered, destined.  Disgrace to linger, distant.

Worker in stone wedding one of two beloved short term workers.  Greek letter, tenant’s payment.  Not happy.


Two:  “Are there such days at the end of three months in which a female, at middle age, can see herself?”


Three:  Funeral car.

Tuesday 21 March 2017, Denmark Hill

Acid angel. Lawful spree, pick-me-up!

Allude to alleviation; to rushed nakedness, meat cure, colour…

Rendezvous nipped – diced, parted. 

Outlaw silenced.


Music making Sarah somewhat sad?  Young actress playing with rattles for gentleman’s enjoyment.  A little cough, with breathlessness, upsets me… (my thoughts ought not be included in these stories). 

She can take in one hand something like a submarine or a cigar; it may bring a touching response when put out – a hole in the eye!

 

Thursday 16 March 2017, Camden Town

She has hesitation in describing fine stockings to royal maids, perhaps to survive terrible evil.


Not all little angels are sylph-like where all that ice can be broken with ease.  Make disclosures about meat – something harpies have to eat.

Do the dance.  Dislikes undue haste.  Promise of freedom…

The French man, hedonistic fellow, cut with an oblique stroke: economy in execution.