Wmm admits that on New Years day, when crossing a road from the cafe in central Pinner to
the bus stop, mistook a folded up newspaper on the side of road for a
decomposing plucked supermarket turkey.
And getting to the bus stop, he saw some chicken bones still with some bits of flesh, scattered around the pavement left behind by a bunch of youths who had been filling their faces with fried chicken, and mistook them for toy deformed plastic soldiers.
The rounded ends of the chicken bones mentally transformed into bulging rounded helmets of the toy soldiers that as impressions of humanoid forms were progressively become more and more deformed by the second until they were just more easy to identify as bones on a wet street dimly lit by streetlights and then again, this sense of certainty would at various half moments easily fade away.
And getting to the bus stop, he saw some chicken bones still with some bits of flesh, scattered around the pavement left behind by a bunch of youths who had been filling their faces with fried chicken, and mistook them for toy deformed plastic soldiers.
The rounded ends of the chicken bones mentally transformed into bulging rounded helmets of the toy soldiers that as impressions of humanoid forms were progressively become more and more deformed by the second until they were just more easy to identify as bones on a wet street dimly lit by streetlights and then again, this sense of certainty would at various half moments easily fade away.
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