Birdsong ….and warm summer air rouse you from a long deep draft of sleep …wet eyes try to focus on this impatient world  .insecure  and worried  that your world of dreams offers more to you than its day and night ….as you stretch …you are caught by the sight of your hand   ..and like in so many moments  before you see yourself as you are or are not ….your Egyptian linen sheet which greeted you as you woke was in fact  the bleached wrinkled palm of your hand …and so like swifts  gulliver you recoil at your liliputian attitude to your outstretched appendage


About mauricewoconnell

Maurice OConnell is a Creative based in Cornwall concentrating on Writing and Unique theatrical appearances.. He continues to imagine a world twice as exciting and dangerous than it could possibly ever be View all posts by mauricewoconnell

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