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My whole life is out here-the whole of my life…I’d come here naked, as a boy-straight from that river out there-throw my clothes on the floor and climb into that loft and lie there dreaming in the hay…All those summer days-scouring the banks of the Avon for smooth, round stones-scaring up ducks and foxes-kingfishers-swallows…somebody’s dog…Oh, God-I want it back. Throwing stones that never reached the other shore. And the games-the games-the games, and all my friends…
