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A Movie. The Third Man. Vienna, after the war, dark, damp, gas lights, unease, camera angles exaggerated, unbalanced. Our Fathers. How we are. How we seem to be. Schooling. Walking to school. Childhood. North End Road. Fragments of life from another time, another era. Our Mothers. Working in shops. My mum caught the 73 bus into town to work at one of the department stores in the 1950s.

Somewhere nearby. A place to sit for some moments of thought, and writings. Sometimes just getting outside can be difficult, but that can be enough. Walking through a doorway. A portal. The air, breathing in another atmosphere, a deep breath, outside. And being still again, a sigh. Still, listening, not seeing. Holding on. A sense of not feeling quite so overwhelmed.

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