Tuesday, 14 August 2012

In Response to: Rural Splendour



Around the corner is the tall house, imposing and pale. A half dead vine intrudes through the attic windows and mice nest beneath the strongest floorboards. In the garden are flyblown bushes, the stems as cold and dry as bone. If the house groans, it may be the sigh of the wind, or a voice that has beeen unused and forgotten.

Text by Lucie MacAulay

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