Eynsford and Beachy Head

I arrived in Eynsford at dusk and plunged my feet into the long soft grass. I then tip-toed along the yellow line that had been painted across the garden. My dad explained the line was to mark the location of a fence that will be taller than me and will surround the new house he intends to construct. I began to mourn the separated land, laden with childhood adventures and secret camps amongst sumac trees, but I don't live there anymore anyway. I have my memories.

I saw the sunset traipsing across the sky above the hills every evening I was there. When dawn came, I was woken by birds chirping, singing, bleating and then again, soon after, by my brother, lost, or checking who was sleeping in his sister's room. He does not remember.
--
( Saturday at Beachy Head, Monday in the woods )

Decade-old magazines

( Wired - July/August 1995 )

( .net - June 1995 )

( Amiga Power - June 1995 )