Mongers, Mushrooms and the Moon

[squirmelia]

Lately, my adventures have been limited to finding brittle leaf fragments tangled in my hair after rolling in the fallen leaves at Little Mongers, near to the law courts; capturing stray mushrooms because I am drawn to them; marvelling at how the bracken is mottled green and yellow and sometimes even white and ready to crumble, fading like a ghost; doing the actions for Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes with members of RockSoc, in the street; soothing the throat with elderflower ricola while noticing their brief appearance in Lunar Park.

I've been thinking about what to write for NaNoWriMo (writing a novel in the month of November) and now I just want to gaze at strangers on trains, and steal everyone else's ideas and write about dreams about boxes and unusual castles, otherwise there will probably only be lipograms of roadtrips (fictional) and staring intently at the moon.