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Friday, 5 August 2011
The bird catcher
Alexander said guard the church. I guard the church.
Next to the church stands a thicket of wintery trees, petrified, trunks silvered with what looks like ash from the war.
The church is half built. Until Alexander told me to guard the church, kids with spindly legs climbed the stonework in dirty school shoes, bed sheets bundled under arms...
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