amaybe one day you will ask my why i feel the way i do . like all good books its not going to be any one thing that turns my head , no .its a long string that thoughts this bow so tightly,
I started to read christopher Morley give you a few lines
It was very different from such bookstores as he had been accustomed to patronize. Two stories of the old house had been thrown into one,the lower space was divided into little alcoves,above. a gallery ran round the wall,which carried books to the ceiling. the air was heavy with the delightful fragrance of mellowed paper and leather surcharged with strong bouquet of tobacco.
now that makes my mind almost feel the smell and i remember as a kid ,going into a bar and finding its smell so rich with life's stories it screamed at me and to this day i can rember walking into that old high street public bar ,
now why the hate , today with this PC mad world i'm forced to live in its , same story ,i walk into a well light large soulless room with safe book shelving,with books that at best will smell of plastic and ink with the harsh lights over head i squint to read the back cover as i stand in this people mart , devoid of feeling, i hate this world i'm made to live in , were your evil if your not a believer and then go to jail for saying that to a gay , or a race different to ones own , armies to keep the peace ,do you even hear what you say to me , and what is this peace your keeping , were you walk down a road stinking of fuel fumes ,with rotting food in bins and the stench of body-oweder from un washed rappers. punks god preaching ...
GO ON ASK ME WHAT IM FELL OF HATE
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