Stuttering flies

I’m sitting in the garden. The weather is beautiful, cool enough to wear a T shirt and shorts, warm enough to be comfortable in the outside air. I’ve my iPod on the iron table here, the gentle breeze is rustling the ivy on the walls, and the air smells fresh. The iPod is on shuffle, and as a techno tune just came on, a small fly landed on my book, it’s jerky movements across the page making it look as if it was dancing to the music.

It dances better than I do.


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