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"What's my name? What's my station? Oh, just tell me what I should do."
There were storms yesterday afternoon and into the night. Before sleep, I lay and listened to thunder rolling across the valley. Thunder and the whistles of trains passing through Leeds, two profoundly comforting sounds in the darkness, and the rain against the windows. Trying to focus on anything but grief and misgiving and regret, and the rain ( Read more... )