Eppur Si Muove

Paul stared into the distance, not sure when would be the right time to speak. The city writhed under the gaze of a million tormented eyes. June’s friends said she was doing better, she seemed quite bright. ‘Play me a madrigal, I long to get drunk on the music of my fathers – the older the vintage, the better!’ They had been at the grammar school together, it seemed like a long time ago now, misty through the haze of responsibility.Much like Ghengis Khan, he had spread his wild oats far and wide, and was plagued by nosebleeds. Drink, thou, on honeydew, the Alf runs high. ‘It’s a mystery’, she suggested, taking care to hide the empty paper behind her back. The gnawing went on and on, on into the deepest pits of emptiness, relentless, indefatigable, incomprehensible.Eppur si  muove…



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