I keep trying over my shoulder at the dark wall of margin trees that passing headlights create slightly less black. Muggers ar less of a worry than some community good Samaritan materializing out of the winter gloom to raise if everything’s happy with a newsperson down on her hands and knees ahead of a position automobile, caressing the pavement.
Explanation wouldn't be simple. this is often not an evident place to tug over. The shady shoulder of a roaring commuter route appearance as if it'd hole itself in shock at the footstep of a strolling pedestrian. however it’s a pilgrim's journey destination for the acoustically curious, and it’s not a nasty place to ponder trying over one’s shoulder.
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