I was tidying up because I don't need thesis-things in my life quite as much right now (did I say I submitted? I think I said I submitted), and in my pile of stuff I found some poems inspired by the antics on the train on the way back from one of my interviews. My main discovery is that everything sounds violently Scandinavian in alliterative half-lines.

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Since the contest of arms I've be thinking about bakers and how they can exist. Obviously, they arn't a natural phenomenon: in the wild they'd be eaten by zombies befre they even had time to construct a rudementory oven. My theory is that I (with the aid of the armed forces and the specilist volunteer coups) made them. That is to say I repeatedly cleared an area of roving undead hordes and other freakish abominations, until it was possible for bakers to exist.
Arguably, tradesmen are my greatest achivement. Equally true: they are a very fragile creation which is why villages keep getting destroyed.

Then aleksrothis wrote a song and I was "inspired"

( It's called: Our differences define us and makes us special )