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Saltburn

“The sea fills my ear
with sand and with fear”

Saltburn

In a World of Rust

An ancient tractor sits crab like, slowly sinking into the gravel, surrounded by the flotsam of last winter’s storms, with nothing to protect it from the elements other then a battered old tarp lashed down with frayed blue nylon rope. 129 more words

Places Revisited

The Wading of the Sun

There is an old custom, almost dead now. It is only in hidden and unfrequented spots that it still survives – I mean ‘the wading of the sun.’ It was common enough thirty years ago.

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Saltburn