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no words to describe the mass,
the danger of it all, the hate  that
rises.
the parallel,

power house.
bone house.
dark/ we painted it
all vaguely national
trust
blows ideas into our houses
messages bring connections
a busy day with folk talking
things will do for now
until it changes again
slightly
there was a gentle breeze going, then
the sun came through.
slower morning here today. the radio plays.
dove grey overcast sky. heavy they say.
maybe rain?
we need to concentrate on detail
to describe things properly
need to
go there each year a while
to retain to remain in memory
need to
care for  little things
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