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Wednesday September 21st 2011    Tim Candler

      Try as I have, I cannot retreat from the idea of September twenty first as prelude to Winter Solstice.  Probably why my head ached this morning and by noon I was still fogged from the awesome responsibility of riding the infinite straight line.  It's exhausting, with the ground wet like this and Spelt Berries still in the plastic bag.

     I went all the way to one of the big towns to fetch the berries, along with supplies for The Artist.  The straight line there and back was over two hundred miles. I'll say it's time that gives to a line the word infinity.   When I got home I was five hours older. And now it is three days later.

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