It’s dust. It really is. It’s dust. In MY EYE.

A friend, I have one. Honest. Recently alerted me, well not just me. Me and the rest of her social network on one of the popular social meeja hubnodes, to a link of 14 short stories that can be read in a lunchtime.

 

Here’s one of them.

 

http://www.esquire.com/fiction/fiction/ray-bradbury-last-night-of-the-world-0251

 

“Do you know, I won’t miss anything but you and the girls. I never liked cities or autos or factories or my work or anything except you three. I won’t miss a thing except my family and perhaps the change in the weather and a glass of cool water when the weather’s hot, or the luxury of sleeping. Just little things, really. How can we sit here and talk this way?”

Which instantly made me remember:

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2012/feb/01/top-five-regrets-of-the-dying

 

When is the revolution coming?

 

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It’s dust. It really is. It’s dust. In MY EYE.

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