An idea for a new book inspired me to write one of the piece bit of work that I’ve managed in ages. Here it is:
“These Old Men would babble, like brook, about a country -a land -a nation- that their grandsons never knew & they could no longer truly remember.
The burning shame of their departures fading into tales of Summer wines & Winter girls. Oceans, food & song.
As good as this country had been to them, despite how long they had stayed, it was never their True Home.
And all they did now was lament how the young ones did not know of what never was & sing songs of histories that never were”.