Cockerels That Turn in the Wind

I would stand at the top of Hillfield Park and idly watch the clouds drift across me, picking those I could from the sky. Sometimes far below I saw migratory swallows returning from a winter in Africa, flying past in perfect Euclidean formations. I’d look down on terraces of Edwardian houses and their roofs tumbled below… Continue reading Cockerels That Turn in the Wind