Essay in orange.
Seen from the train: in the middle of an otherwise empty field, a large black bull with fierce horns curving from his head.
I'm going down to the sea, says a loquacious plumber (it sounds from his earlier conversation that he is a plumber not currently working). He makes room for us to share the bench he is occupying on the platform. I'm going to the end of Hastings near the fishermens' huts. I going to drink a glass of beer with some cockles. And then I'll come home."
1 comment:
Ooooooh! Gorgeous flower.
Enjoying all 3 "images" from today's
post.
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