Lazy from C-Z

Something stirs. The feeling of an ant marching to the top of one's neck, waiting to be so easily forgotten. Not even a hint of a footnote. Every single one of its ilk lost through the ebb of space and time. Out of sight, out of mind, out of any real deductible purpose. So it stirs. Now the emotions ramp up. Tick, tock, tickle, pop. The crescendo dances to the swing of French beat. Rain from the ground. From here onwards we delve into a nostalgic mood swing. Two steps. We lost sight of the sound. We lost sense to the crowd. We could have had it all. But the echoes swallowed it whole.

May onwards will be a face forward annihilation of a clash of ideals; strongly mainly the perusal of the idea of me being the sole contributor for both my dependencies and beneficiaries. Home is soon to be in sight, although it was my hope that while the benefits reaped from it are a boon to us all, it is far from the save I hoped it would be. Goodness will bury my finances six foot under. Fortnum & Mason has not changed much since I left. The whole mood feels arbitrarily worse now than it was since I left it about five, six years ago. People still remembered me. Had a brief chat with Ramil and Cher about melancholies of the past to now. The latter apologised, but I will not be stirred. Everywhere I go I carry this lifelong trifecta of grief, regardless of the people that surrounds me. For now, it seems my soul still resides where I currently am professionally.  But the bother persists remembering of yesterday, of the yesteryears, knowing what I know now. Happy birthday, you, w...