My Remington speaks...

A little history...

I bought a Remington No. 5 Streamlined Portable Typewriter - it's a vintage, circa 1938. It sits on my desk in its carry case and waits for me. It doesn't cry out to me or moan at me or judge me, it just sits and waits.

Sometimes it reads my thoughts and sometimes, forgive all this pretension, won't you - sometimes it hardwires itself into my brain and creates little vignettes on a sheet of paper that endear me to its style.

I wrote this under the glow of a new lamp - and it just flowed as best it could. Me and my Remington, like lovers entwined, spilt out this delirious bull**** and we didn't much care how others judged us.

Thanks for reading!