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Saturday, 08 July 2006
Last night she said.
Boundaries laid and forgotten; last night's performance held this uncomfortable position, the drugged halfway house for poetic vagrants in a cobbled back lane. Divisive remainders, confront and admonish, the room offered pearls for thought, a brief exhortation, the sense of anonymous alcoholics circled, encircling and seated. Terrorist acts represented and drawn apart, corrupted at seam and juncture, torn limb by limb until the evidence was destroyed and rows upon rows of people had backed away. The lights went out and then up, filmic blasts with intermittent word arrangement, the click of noise.
Then into town for milkshakes.
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