Day Twenty-Three: Learning to Run

She can hear them every time she goes into the shed. The lintel over the door is beginning to collapse, like teeth rotting to loose, jagged edges, before dropping in soft sections to the ground. It is their chewing she can hear, a faint rasping noise, and she can see them, entering from a hole in the side, or from the very centre of the apex of the lintel. But she cannot see where they go. There is no papery whorl extending from…

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Lucy Weir

Lucy Weir

Ecological philosopher, writer, yoga and meditation facilitator. www.knowyogaireland.com