On Walking: Tuesday 24th February

The wind is cold, strong. It flips up my dress, pulls my hair from its pins, boxes my face. The dogs and I jump the ditch, cross into Dave’s field. The sun gleams in a line along the beaten mud of the footpath. I eschew its slippery promises of speed, take to the margins.

msnd‘So will I live, so grow, so die,’ I say. I push my way through the secret passage, stumbling, as I’m trying to read……..

On Walking: Tuesday 24th February.

Horley Footlights A Midsummer’s Night Dream

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