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My uncle was dispensing financial advice
when the floods came.

I was walking out on the jetty
and frantically closing windows.

He was recommending ISAs, which was strange
as the sun was flat.

I used the colour drop tool to change the sky.

Brickwork was falling and then
I was gripping it in my hands as the road got steeper.

The tree outside Amy’s blossomed
and I looked back below at the tarmac escarpment:

a lupine figure working the vertical treadmill
towards me.

Someone had been sick in the corner.

James was there, in some capacity.

All night I was riding the tops of the trains.

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