Taking their sweet time in posting out a small pack from a week's request fallen back, the people down at the RSL finally delivered. Striking a hard odour, not unlike plastic, though everything's chicken now, the postcards were totally useless in torquing them over into carriers of a message. These cards were a whole lot of depression and self-doubt. The concept of one thousand journals distilled into a potent collection of only ten people who actually got the news and ambition to unleash their demons.
Tuesday, 1 February 2005 - 14:07
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