Thomas Fuller's Daybook

Back in the day when realism was real, I'd get up every morning and start writing.

Whatever came into my mind was fine by me. There seemed to be no difference between how my life was lived and how it looked on paper once it was lived.

The light was always sweet in those days, whether it shined or didn't shine. I'd watch it walk over the brim of the hill and head straight for whatever house I was living in in those days.

I'd scribble away until the kids woke up and it was time for me to be a man and go out into the real world.

Somehow, when I wasn't looking, the pages piled up and I found I'd made a real book.

Then the book was published and it scared me. So I took off for Wyoming where realism is still real and I could get up every morning and watch the sun rise and scribble into my daybook.

The End.