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The sounds of this place, for some quite inexplicable reason, are reassuring. The dull, rubbery click that my shoes - polished, black shoes, my old school shoes - make as they lightly touch the paving slabs, and the rustle they make as they push down yellow-dry grass…
Even the chattering of the crows seems strangely unthreatening, although the blackbirds silently ignore me.
There’s rabbits, too, under the bushes. People don’t worry them, even buses don’t worry them - I guess they’re used to life here. More used to it than I am.