Confession as Literature

Sometimes, a blog can feel like an extended confession.

But on reading the word Confess – surprisingly, I have nothing.

My conscience is clear. Or I’ve managed to block out a whole heap of naughty. There’s every chance, of course, that I’ve already written it down and so – it’s out. Out of my head. Out of my thoughts. Out of me. Not my problem anymore, now it’s literature.


Author: pbinney

Child of Croydon, living in Devon. Moving seamlessly from one embarrassment to the next.

One thought on “Confession as Literature”

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