The drowning city –
not a metaphor – a drowning city.
All relics will
drown.
The Appel woman and
her whatever-it-is survive to see the 11th Century abbey adrift and
awash. Lights still blaze from the wobbly gherkins of a flawed modernity. The
sea roils more as it reaches the walls.
You can be as solid
as you like – one day the waters will close over your spinning head.
All relics will
drown.
continued on Gilly's page
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