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‘She rises still. A region must be found unhaunted by birds, that else might profane the mystery. She rises still; and already the ill-assorted troop below are dwindling and falling asunder. The feeble, infirm, the aged, unwelcome, ill fed, who have flown from inactive or impoverished cities – these renounce the pursuit and disappear in the void. Only a small, indefatigable cluster remain, suspended in infinite opal. She summons her wings for one final effort; and now the chosen of incomprehensible forces has reached her, has seized her, and, bounding aloft with united impetus, the ascending spiral of their intertwined flight whirls for one second in the hostile madness of love.’
A belated happy New Year to you all from No. 53 Hoxton Square. January at Slightly Foxed is a time of great activity as, with set jaws and the kettle on a permanent rolling boil, we turn to the annual task of ‘proof-reading the database’. . . We’ll be in touch again next month with more news of the coming quarter’s issue and books but for now, let’s meet at the Folly Brook with ‘BB’ and his Little Grey Men.
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