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St John's Wood

St John's Wood frost

As I walk with the frost and moon a childhood memory recurs, as a breeze is captured by the trees, of how to think about the world, are my thoughts a fantasy? is the world out there a reality? Was my thinking wrong and  reality out there right? I couldn't find a way to express these thoughts. I carried on wandering and wondering and dreaming. I left school and began work at a sweet age and learnt how to become a grown up.

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