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Winter at the beach

FEBRUARY 8, 2010
The wife is cold, she wants more heat, and I have been burning driftwood but its smells. Although its free and quite plentiful it often contains cresol that once burned creates a very strong order within the studio and house. May have to buy some coal it will cost me but it creates better heat, burns hotter in the old enclosed stove.
This is the germ of the idea; good ideas tend to haunt they are the ones that will not go away. That is until I go into the shop and bring them to light.
Once in the shop I draw from my neatly labeled spare parts boxes, and quickly layout the vision that the voices in my head are telling me to create.
Local island legend has it, that sometimes when the moon is full, and the planet is in aliment that “old number 408” can be seen roaring down the now abandoned seaside tracks. At the fiery throttle is the devil himself taking his passengers of lost souls, priests and politicians to the gates of hell itself.
Put my new poster up but not many people here at the beach in winter. My agent says that with the hours I keep I would be better suited to sell fish at the fish market. Recently I completed a job survey personality match and considering all the years I have spent alone in he studio, I seem best suited to be a Shepard, not bad, but you get paid in cheese.