Rose George: some rambling

Rose George: some rambling

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Anxious to get back and tell a horse about it

My first memory is being in a cage

Her intelligence and watchfulness

We would shout "we are not wild boar."

My angry arms

The Goat

The land of contagion

Killed while leading donk and patient

They are less fidgety

I could drink a puddle

Parrots get bored

We can rebuild her. We have the technology.

No storm can escape me

This enraged goat

Rain weirds the world

Malodorant compositions

Flying over the Gherkin dressed as a zebra

This is Russia

With the witches

My sound or rotten bones

Bloody Nora

Doesn't look very World Cuppy to me

More moors, some elephant

I see you

Pot-bellied bleeding and other tales from the tarmac

Hurting. Determined. And alone.

The Great Race of Mercy

Join me on Notes

A sorry state; a happy thing

A pickaxe in the face

Gestapo ghosts

This is a Hancock triumph

The Norwegian Arm

67.2804° N, 14.4049° E

They just left her like a gift

For heavens sake stop it

There will be blood

I have no fear nor shrinking

To be a dot

Able Seacat

Meanwhile I bleed and weep

LIFT-OFF

© 2025 Rose George
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