Monday, August 25, 2003

We’re stop-starting around the ring road. I’m normally out of the village by seven-thirty and beat the rush hour. How odd it must be to do this every day, to play these shadow dodgems. To lurch and brake and stall, create motional syncopations. An improvising, automotive orchestra.
-this is the first chapter of Wake Up By Tim Pears, which i have just read. two brothers have turned thier father's greengrocers into a successful business. not content with that they have been experimenting with the genetic potential of the potato. unfortunately some people involved with the trial have died. rather than take the turn off for work and tell his brother the narrator decides to just keep driving round the ring road.

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