Snow, cold, friend and bedside drawers!

Chronicles of an Orange-Haired Woman!

After a horribly disturbed night – about which more in a moment – I have woken to flurries of snow from a heavy and corpse-like sky. They are increasing in strength and scope, their brave little advance guard now replaced by much more serious and muscular artillery. There are some signs of the earlier flakes sticking patchily onto the grass and haphazardly upon car roofs. Pippa, who is snowy white in colouring herself, sits in her run, being snowed upon, apparently completely unfazed by this abrupt turn in the weather.

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My night was riven by the harsh chariots of insecurity, their mad black horses plunging and foaming, screeching in wounded rage at being so confined within a woman’s mind and semi-dreaming thoughts. The howling echoes, and sad silences, of those who opted not to come with me, metaphorically, in my new beginning gain disproportionate weight and gravitas at two in…

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