How
much of the past, its people and memories, stay imprinted on the landscape? Are
the trees lining the nave of a bombed-out church busy rebuilding it? And does
the valerian that thrusts through cracks in walls on streets climbing from the
city centre remember when the hillside was woodland called Fockynggrove, rising
beyond the city walls and a very well frequented spot indeed? Yes, everything
is mutable, but stories persist.
Available to buy from Indigo Dreams Publishing
or directly from me for £10 (free p&p) - contact admin@the leapingword.com
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