As I write I am sitting in the early morning, just after sunrise, and the sheer freshness and beauty of the morning fills my soul with joy. It is not often that I wake up like this, for normally I am in pain. But today is beautiful. There are few sounds outside except the calling of the doves and the wood pigeons, and my soul is drawn to the woods again. We have some beautiful woods at the top of our road, and at night you can hear the distinctive hoot of the tawny owl. It never fails to stir my soul.

I know that I will never see those woods again, or even indeed go to them, for they are inaccessible to me now. But I can dream. I can imagine. I can go back in time and relive what I once knew. Sometimes doing that makes me unbearably…

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