The street is empty, I smell smoke
I often wondered about other mothers
It's a small, pretty place, near Milford Haven
Probably isn't definitely
The hand that rocked the cradle has kicked the bucket
Slum Dog Millionaire
Perhaps I should return to my apartment
How Plaster Dries
Something in the night sky, lights
Red Sea Peril
We went kite dragging, not flying
Another storm is battering at the windows, the wind keens
Clothes lines flapping with white, the sound of children
She was, in the end, more or less unharmed
PINK!
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