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This map is anybody’s, unowned for all, 

made concrete by some as law with which to wage and carve

paths but all roads lead back to the first beach. All plumbing 

leaks, through cracks in the cloud and the pavement.

Taste the rain with one foot in the waves, liminal

and rich in fear – fossilised in salt water. An old city 

dressed with many doors and windows, above which carvings read 

‘Hear lies the good, the bad, and a beautiful truth. Hear lies.’