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Pram
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The Owl Service
the road is long and made of sand and grit the trees loom up against the sky the turnip moon makes a song of the lake and all I know is heartache
the night is a tender velvet cloak lined in mist, edged in starlight the waters rise and threaten to drown the shore a boat to cross the water what I long for
animals, darkness and trees between me and where i live
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