Every morning iridescent screams echoed around the streets of the Willsea housing estate. No one really knew where the peacocks had come from. They’d been roaming the gardens of the Willsea longer than I’d been alive. […]
True as the river, there were ghost brides in other villages. Her mother had made this clear, said it was tradition, an honor. Mi knew she’d never see these other girls. Trains no longer ran, and the bicycle paths quickly became overgrown with new and mutated plants. […]
You will remember that we trudged up the overgrown slope, away from the burned-out burger van and jagged remains of chalets and portacabins, and passed through what you later described as the loneliest playground in England. […]
This city is unlike any other. Cut it open and you'll find neither an inner spiral of a nautilus shell, nor a sprawling mycelium maze. The internal structure of this city betrays no trace of natural growth, carries no scars of a trial-and-error pathway taken by other cities. […]
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