I walk around with no ideals or goals. I pass ripe blackberry bushes.
There’s a man in me who would prove. He is right but little else. My knowledge of people was built up somewhere else. It was a heavy-handed preparation and it dies hard.
I walk around with no ideals or goals. I pass ripe blackberry bushes.
There’s a man in me who would prove. He is right but little else. My knowledge of people was built up somewhere else. It was a heavy-handed preparation and it dies hard.
Rachel Cusk photo courtesy the author.
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