is becoming a haunt

of ours, with jetties,

stories of grounded ships.

to colwyn, through the trees,

of mochdre, to meet

photographic friends.

one man down, and where is

dignity here, where is humanity

in those that walk the other

side. he seems a nice boy,

your son, your brother, sir?

bodelwyddan, sweet beeping birds, part faces and water staining.

we did not find the trenches, we found pictures here.

we drove the a55