Daffni Ginger pulling us down the rabbit hole
There’s something way out there in the distance and while I want to figure out what it is I’m busy chasing little green men with a broom. They show up and empty all my flour out on the floor. They sing that one song in Willy Wonka with Gene Wilder. The one where they’re on the boat in a tunnel. At first I was excited because I thought it was Oompa Loompas, then I thought I was sleep walking. Finally, one night I caught those little tricky dickies. Watched a whole bag of flour fall right out of my cabinet. I’d let them stay, but flour is kind of a big deal when it comes to cake, and if I can’t bake a cake when I’m down then what the hell else am I supposed to do. Definitely not write. Which is exactly my problem. Sylvia Plath says she doesn’t…
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