The wall I will return to is overhung by beeches, knee-high with hulls when the valley is wild and they wash up as part of a tidal forest floor. The space for the stone is tip-toe high and I don’t want it to be found. It is a message for my future self from this place of restriction. Words from a library book I borrowed 20 years ago. I have forgotten the title and the author but remember the orange hardback cover. Three words remain. Written on stone, by stone. ‘Countless adventures follow.’
Sarah L. Dixon
42
