The pic be here and the writing Too https://www.instagram.com/p/CqT_Ar5oi1S/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Yes and all the content was gone leaving the form. The form was where the hare had lain. Then by the wall the dried red seeding docks. Overlooking this flat field far past the school house and the twist in the river the pines, a lone Scots, rising dry stone wall and by that an adder, basking by some rushes, up towards the Howes a common land probably owned by the Lord, actually not a proper common. But then way up behind a few farms, walls, big old trees in lines a hundred and fifty years old planted as wind breaks, an old school house, the last farm and then the fells proper with ponies, and the actual common as named. This common rising gradually with the odd sheep, bracken, then Heather and cropped grass, up to high areas of peat bog and stone pavement of lime. Above a peewit cried, a crow wind-blown and a raven on a stone. Below the lake. Far below the sun glinting directly reflecting in two tarns at varying heights. And way distant the Pennines a broken backed great monstrous mass of bludgeoned and seizmic up thrusting and brownly dominating hills and peaks. Beyond that grey silver rivers and hillock falling grasses flowing towards the eastern coast of towns with darling in their names and sentimental and loving couples drinking ale in courtyards and brick pubs against the blighted docks long since out distanced by other ports far away.
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