Dorb. We don’t see much of Old Herb and his missus; Myrtle. They wander into town from their home, somewhere out in the sticks, for
The arrival when time is still, A setting sun as evening swill. Shadows cast from early day, Stranded there on baking clay. Silence gurgle of
TWG Theme: Arrival (A Backpackers Travel Article.) My Title: All Aboard the India Express. To arrive you first must depart. That seems logical? A simple
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