THE FIRST SOUNDS

THE FIRST SOUNDS


Women in their early thirties.
The apex of Horsington Hill.
Bright pictures on the wall of a creche.
A troubled young man.
The after thoughts of today's pulinory embolism.
Learning through play.
A dutiful reconicense flight.
Forced tranvestisism.
The abolition of lead toy soldiers.
Gumbo.
Learning through play.



The ions in the warm droning womb deliver you to the first sounds.
It's a compusory journey.
You have to care about your existence.
You are unequipped to abandan whatever it takes to survive.
Only death in it's overwealming you pardons you of your compusory assignment.


The ridiclous nurse and everything she's caught up in.
Learning through play.
Through play.

TIM SANSOM 19TH DECENBER 2006