The warm summer sun at the end of the day before an evening that lasts forever. Gently sleeping on the soft green grass or riaing out on a frosty morning. Happiness in the freezing breeze and later your pale hand in mine.
Firelight and toast. Firelight and toast after I come home from playing cricket. Now sweeping across tne western sky. Great Furnace doors are open and light the sky like a sunset.
Night and day there was trouble that the eye could almost see. In the Valleys that lay open. In the papers now recovered. Read in the bright mid-morning among the flowers under trees.
The choices thatyou made are a mystery and were not yours any more. I look out on corpses, skeleton trees. An unimaginable hell in front of my eyes.