perhaps you’ll die
There is a fly. It is irritating. Constantly buzzing around the conservatory trying to find a way out. I have opened the door. The fly has flown through the open door and is now out in the garden. What does this fly want out of life? Inside the conservatory the conditions were benign. Comfortable. Outside the autumn is under way and soon the conditions will not be very conducive to being a fly. The fly obviously thinks otherwise. It knows better. Goodbye fly.
Tags: diary