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There’s a town down there, sitting here I see it and a forest in there is.  Standing I see more.  Carriages parked, people motionless sitting on benches. There’s a town around a forest, green squeezed by grey. If there’s more to see they do not tell me, so I improvise, my eyes blink and wheels start moving tearing the forest with roads.  People commence walking, collect the trunks, the branches, the leaves, building more benches, raising fences, rookeries, everything clear now, normality. There’s a town down there, no forest at all and I go back to my crayons set, oblivious...

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Comment by Sally Pomeroy on March 8, 2011 at 6:41pm
This is so moving.  I'm devastated, for the town and the forest, and your child heart.  It's great.
Comment by Christos Rodoulla Tsiailis on March 9, 2011 at 11:02am
thanks guys, but New York?  Never crossed my mind.  Actually, being in the process of writing prose poems of 100 words about cities, I still haven't written one about N.Y.  I guess it is time i did so.

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