Blizzards & Mars Bars

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There is something mesmerising about each layer of snow, the way they compact and hold together on each uniquely crafted branch with adhesive icicles . . .
. . . Fascinating. . .

Today I climbed a mountain, the air was crisp and the pathway strewn with footprints of many walkers each treading the path that lay before my trudging boots. Judging by the depths of the varying indents, the size and stature of those that previously walked the blizzard like snow, varied immensely.

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‘Man Up’…

I’m sat waiting for the rice to finish cooking, it’s part of a delicious dish I’m cooking, judging by the aroma that the slaughtered chicken is producing, now that the fleshy morsels have been dusted with herbs, it’s going to be delightful. . .

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The other day I sat chatting with a few mates, and the topic of discussion was, ‘What is a Real Man!’

It was quite a straight forward question but the conversation seemed to be stuck in a groove of uncertainty.

You could sense the unease, you could see beads of perspiration forming on foreheads, it was as if the question was too dangerous to handle. . .

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Pray!. . .Pray always. . .

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I really need to get a thermos mug! . . .I notice that on many occasions my posh coffee lar-tay or latte depending where your from, is cold before I finish drinking it, today is no exception.

I have just been reading an article about a sports player who collapsed whilst playing a football match. . .

As I read I sensed my internal organs grieving, aligning with his relatives anguish.

As I continued reading it was amazing to hear many professional players and football associates say that they were praying for him also, praying that he would be well!. . .

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Love…

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I’m sat drinking a refreshing drink of Pepsi,

I love the way the ice wrestles with the liquid, striving to stay alive, yet with every second its life is squeezed from it.

. . .’mesmerising!’. . .

I don’t actually love Pepsi!, it’s just the word I use to say “hey I like that!”. . .

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What Is Hope?. . .

Go stand by the window!. . .open it!. . .look onto the streets!. . .

Do you see?. . .

Somewhere there is someone being murdered, somewhere there is someone giving their flesh against their will. . .

Somewhere there is someone losing the fight against addictions

Somewhere there is someone selling an addiction to someone that is desperate for escape. . .

Somewhere near you there is some one weeping for release from the agony of a shattered heart. . .

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Misery…

Escalators!. . .are seriously cool!. . .

I have just been down two massive escalators.

As I was going down I remembered a mate of mine telling me, how he used to slide down the side railings and how the security used to give chase!. . . Yes, I have some very crazy mates!. . .

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Worn Out…

I’m sat in a cafe, and it’s narcotic, I’m guessing from the decor that its trying to relive the past.

I’m almost a quarter of the way through my bacon sandwich, it’s nice, but I should have indulged in a full breakfast. You see, the table adjacent to mine did, and now they are gorging themselves on fodder that could have been mine.

And as I paused between the last and next mouthful a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

I have just been to the cobblers to have the heels of my boots fixed, they were in desperate need of work due to the mileage they have recently completed.

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I’m know watching tables empty and tables refill, and I’m wondering how many of those who have stuffed their faces, quenched their thirst remember the ‘Good old days?’. . .

I chuckle to myself why do we call them the ‘good old days’ as if time now elapsed was full of life more vigorous more fulfilling than these days we now occupy?.

. . .’very peculiar!’. . .

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A lady is rummaging through her historic looking bag, she has a desperate, anxious look upon her weather worn face. 

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A Fathers Love…

Im sat consuming a coffee and a little piece of chocolate in a busy deli-eatery.

The chocolate I am consuming is an easter egg reduced to half-price by a shop who’s marketing strategy failed to maximise revenue from the crucifixion.

There is a young boy, no older than 6 years of age sat at a table close to where I am located. He is sat with his father and is striving to engage him in child like activity, in a historical game derived from the nursery rhyme ‘pat-a-cake’. He is persistently wrestling with the clasped hands of his father trying to pry them apart for play.

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To Tired To Fight. . .

Work was a real chore today.

It was as if all the joyful components had been removed, leaving me with the acute sense that this is ‘hard work’.

At first I considered the early hour to be the rationale for my uncomfortableness, yet I have functioned admirably on many occasions in this time zone.

 So, how can this be? how can one day be so unlike the previous day? how can two days be so unhinged?

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The Beat. . .

There is a tune playing in my ear. . .it has a seriously heavy beat with a dramatic sounding base.

It’s as if my ear drums are being battered by an acoustic jelly, with a delicious rhythm. . .

Do you ever get those moments when all of your life for one split second seems all aligned, all in sync, as if every globule of liquid within you flows to one rhythm?

Theres this mate of mine who plays drums, in fact he breathes drums, if you were to watch him play, whilst sticking your fingers in your ears to drown out all of the sound, he would look seriously strange, arms flailing everywhere legs thrashing around and a weird look across his face!. . .
But if you were to remove your fingers, so that you could hear the sound of the drum; then your ears, your mind and your flesh would fall into the very beat that he was playing.

. . .’exquisite’. . .

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