Home to Easterwick

home to Easterwick:

in the train, back to home, what crosses her mind? that home is best? that public transport is an effort in itself? that that inspires fantasy about travel is rather lost in the moment, the hurly burly of getting to the station, waiting on platform, thinking of something to do in the train, else stare out the window, why did she come here in the first place?

what called her there was out of her control mostly, this is what happens to type. that there is much attention is off putting, one of life's hurdles, to be dealt with seriously at the time.

that the prospectus was enticing, according to appearance. it was much mentioned, in the same breath as the other place, is the full answer. was it a social paradise? social types parading through the grounds and in the streets, living it up, R. and R. in town.

i've imagined it well, really well, actually! somewhere east of Tonbridge, in the Kent Downs, far downhill from Orpington, a fantastic house, overlooking the Downs, the serviceable rooms at the front, black and white checkerboard tiles, a magnificent staircase leading up to one continuous bedroom, a bed forty foot wide, pillars, and seemingly infinite at the rear! one day, perhaps, on a wild drive in the country, she will come upon it, down a winding tree littered rough road, exactly as i've imagined it!

CLEARCHARGE