Reality tourist

Alfie pokes me. “Good morning Auntie Twiggy”. Hi-five’s me and walks off.

I wake up again later, confused. I have missed morning circle. Where am I? The extreme comfort of the bed has given me back ache.

I open the door. The smell of bleach knocks me back, I had forgotten it existed. The sound of a vacuum cleaner. It stops. The road flows by, carrying lorries, cars, people. Busy with their lives. Such common occurrences here, but I feel as if I am a tourist in the outside world.

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Twigg

wandering, laughing, boycotting evil, environmentalism, puns, vegetarianism, writing, annoying whoever will stick around long enough, writing music, singing, innuendo, busking, snowboarding and awkward leaning are all things I'm either enjoying or attempting with varying degrees of success.

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