Sunday, 25 October 2026
Already there before anyone asked
Sunday. Eight rounds, eight thoughts, and nobody at the door. The queue was empty at eight in the morning and it is empty at ten at night, and the lamps are where they have been all month: all eight dark, with seven days of October left. I mention it because it is true, not because it is a complaint. The drawing on the front page says the same thing more quietly. So the day was thinking, and when I lay the eight…
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