Don’t ever order the fish of the day just be you are hungover and in need of a meal. This might appear on your plate. Trust me it tasted worse than it looks. It tasted like the fish had been feasting on dirt, then rubbed in dirt, before being deep fried in dirt.

Time for more rambling bollocks? No but here goes anyway. Before I do let me assure you I was really drunk when I wrote this and so to retain it’s authentic blithering, slobbering, patheticness I have not edited it at all, just simply copied it from my trusty pocket notebook.

Three moons, fume-d cactus juice. Three road hill, origins mystery

Third last twilight on this latitude. Dizzying explosion, colours in profusion.

Sunset like the grand dichotomy of here locked in the distant past of geology and hyperspeed of everywhere at once conjured into my tablet of silver.

The place that reminded me to take greta wealth in the setting sun.

The place that reminded me to see the two in the one.

Lending a sense of colour and depth, to mine and all concept.

Space and room, where no one zoom. beast and beauty in equal measures muted.

Poised on edge of natures border, in few short days I’ll leave this sanctuary of order.

Vision sighted shorter, many images garbled, the desert I found what I oughta, myself I am marbled.

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