Monday, August 12

A Series of Sentences Beginning With The Letter G

Gustav Mahler served me breakfast, seasoned with the scenery of a train
rattling itself over the tracks of the Wivenhoe flats.

Going out of my mind today because I’m a little happier than usual—(and
underneath it all I think she should sign her name).

Galaxy arms come and go, but right now the Milky Way is over my head.

Gnats might help themselves to my blood but I have a whole set of bones
cooking up a fresh stew, so you’ll forgive me if I shrug away the
summer nights when it is too hot for clothes and closed windows.

‘Go slowly, this hangover is unlike one you’ve had before,’ I told myself
Thursday morning.

Good enough for me, good enough for you; the sun is shining upon the
statues outside the Royal Exchange and they are getting hotter &
hotter.

Gladly shall I go lake swimming; let earth put up the hilly shades and I
shall lower my eyes to the bouncing splash of the windy tide!

Guided by nostalgia down crowded London streets, seeing her name
everywhere.

Gravity has this awful habit of keeping me on the ground when the people
around seem to become a little weightless.

Gold is no stranger to me, not when I am soaking up the serenity of my
hometown sunshine on my walk to the train station.

Gathering up the fallen tobacco flakes from my mother’s dinner-table.

Goalposts in the Eindhoven neighbourhood where Johanna lived: a
crooked line of worn-out grass from one to the other, and a large silver
puddle in the middle from last night’s thunderstorm.

Good luck finding me a female bass player.

Grumpy old man wearing a secondhand ‘Buffy’ t-shirt, weathering himself
down the platform, breaking a sweat out on his brow and clutching a
rolled up free newspaper.

Get in a comfortable position and listen to the drunks speeding their cars
down the road outside my house at two-oh-one on this Sunday
morning.

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