I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes.
I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over.
I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong.
And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions.
I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely.
It's what we do.
Friday, 18 May 2012
Desperate Times Called for Desperate Measures,
Only by throwing off their heavy winter garments could the girls hope to keep up the speed they would need to beat the train to its destination, 1200 miles away across Siberia.
You always find the most winsome of pictures ... I'm quite envious. I wish I had found these ladies first!
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