20th December:
My wife's final words to me last night as we lay in bed were "you smell of cauliflower".
Certainly makes you think, doesn't it?
A day is, by its very nature, a limited and finite period of time. Life in miniature. Each day we follow a curve and, at the end of the day, reflect on its theme, however obvious or obscure. Here, I ruminate over these strands for your personal delectation.
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