The London Magazine - - ROBERT SELBY - Robert Selby

This is the real Eng­land, I say, so what do you think? It’s a place of trees; of ap­ple, pear, cherry and plum. In the gaps is man’s his­tory, his urge to link with oth­ers, forge com­merce, lick a thumb to count the realm’s ten­der or sam­ple har­vest. The rail­way came, but the speed it gave the world en­tan­gled in this bracken and broomy dark­ness. Life here is at the pace a pic­nic blan­ket un­furls. Do you want to re­set your watch to the toll of here? Our years would lengthen into a sum­mer’s evening your silk scarf over one of the two empty chairs; two lit can­dles in the church for us, if any­one cares.

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