The Road is Paved with Good Intentions.
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Yesterday I wrote this poem on a path. 'Do not step here, my dreams have fallen out of my pocket and are hard to find again. Don't grind them into the ground or I will have to wait for the rain to feed the daisies to push them back up again.' I didn’t have to aim it at a particular audience except humanity in a part of Brixton, South London. Didn’t know if they liked poetry or art beforehand. But it made everyone who came across it stop. They read it, asked questions,...