On what would have been another day of sleeping in beyond single digits the call woke up the haggard muscles and marched them forth into the city. Not one to be sane and logical for anything, a short walk in the morning heat—and the blazing sun—was made, the sunscreen turning the face ghostly white and subjecting the eyeballs to another dose of hurt.
Back there, then to the station and all the while bringing the core up a mighty discomfort. Didn't manage a spotting of the prostesting at Town Hall, a sure sight to have beheld. The timing was off and the lineup turned out into a short jog which yet again brought things up.
And then the wait.
The sweat and the sensation of the caking of the sunblock. A black collar turns white from it all. No clue was found or given to the reason behind the meeting behind the man behind the Small Business Awards but it was a nice time all up. No clue. None.
Soon Van - Thursday, 20 March 2003 - 12:28
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