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the diurnality of existence

l am under the cat. The cat is under a slightly moth-eaten pashmina l redeemed at a clothes swap which has become my knee-warmer-cum-cat-drier in this dark season. It's a cold morning. I'm looking forward to seeing the river, but not the cold feet and pink face that comes with, l am getting the same patch of red on my cheek l remember from my mother's face every winter. It is dark in the daytime now. I was on an early at work yesterday (8am to 4.30pm) and thought might walk back along the tow path. No. Too dark. The cat would like me to stay here all day I think, but it is as light as it is going to get, and I must get to work.

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