Today is Wednesday, the 4th of July 2018.
My reality has been hacked. Again. People are staring at me from different places, all the same faces, but at different points on my journey home. That old man is looking out the window, yet five minutes later the same man is standing at the traffic lights miles away and when I arrive home in 666 Whitaker Lane the same guy is the postman delivering my posts and mails. There must have been an error in the matrix much worse than a déjà-vu. And that dead fox I saw by the side of the road near Bromford Bridge the other day is now some kind of stray cat balancing the handrails of the roof terrace outside my window. They are all staring at me looking away whenever I notice it. And they are very busy handling their mobile phones or other electrical devices as well as piles of paper like some kind of script to a play that has gone mad. It feels like THEY ran out of money. THEY are still trying to please me but reality is wearing thin and thinner. The real world tries to break through. But thank goodness, they never had a camera inside my head. At least, I hope so...
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