The Paper Shop see the different cogs in the same big machine different pencils with the same lead inside from different kitchens with the same cuisine on different desinations but on the same ride Tom gets ready to go to work at half past five didn't know his world was about to fall apart buys his morning paper and twenty Park Drive then joins the sea of jellyfish without a heart over a mass of overalls bland clouds drip light rain that enormous brick box will soon have men inside outside in metalic blue skies the sun shines in vain the few spots of rain that fell in the morning have dried chimneys tower over a checkerboard of streets a labour of love emanates from quaint little rows from the Paper Shop you can buy lucky bags and treats but the deep seated furrows of mechanization shows his neighbors are relaxing at Sutton on Sea Tom's never been there, he doesn't have a car he never see's the cornfields blowing wild and free from his own terra...