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A French provincial town. The railway station. Rain.
The TGV of course will show its snout on time
so I’ve two minutes to record just this:
the woman in the block across the tracks
has placed her elbows on the railing of her balcony.
She stares ahead. Our lady of the flowers
is what Corbusier’s civilising dream comes down to:
only her geraniums give hope.

Audio file

Listen to this poem — read by Peter Hetherington