Wednesday evening in the autumn rain
The quiet echo’s through time. This evening I shared it with Edwardians; on these very streets.
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The tap of footsteps on familiar ground
and strangers faces in familiar clothes making familiar sounds,
moving up the long avenue of paving stones towards some piece of mind.
I followed the quiet up the high street. Luminescent men made a circle around the film set – our sacred stories – and a woman played drunk and lonely, and the cameras were there, until they were out of sight. I stood outside and watched.
I heard the whispers again.
I took the backstreet to my right and walked my own path. The street guided me along its edges and enfolded me in it’s warmth as I took the road home. The streetlight winked at me and glowed a knowing look from the puddle. The rain splittered into it; with it, and danced in the crispness of the evening
The Abbey stood patiently watching over the city, and the tree’s nestled their sleep over the cobbles.
Pottering home, I took deep breath of cold air and remembered my love of this city.
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Image by Emre Kuzu