• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 12
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‘Bin empty for years.’
said the old chap,
who stopped, with his terrier,
to watch the scaffolding go up.
‘Think some grand family
lived there, back in the day,
but I can’t rightly remember…’
and he, and his terrier,
shuffled on their way,
as the workmen began
picking off slates
like pieces of scab,
eventually illuminating
a mouse-nested chair
in the centre of the attic
and dissolving
the last wraiths of memories
into dust motes.