Stones

Esme Hand Halford, Henry Carlyle Wade, Sidonie B. Hand-Halford

[Spoken]
Opening that third box, you could fall into a world
One that shouldn't even belong to, but it does, because he owns it
A passage like no other, existing in between the boundaries of a holiday destination and lived sentimental experience
The photographs could only tell us what he'd seen
And postcards where he wished he'd been
Cinema stubs were the most telling
He had bad taste but a strong sense of tendеrness
Hello beautiful facеs and bad fashion artefacts
Pamphlets of nights that must have meant a lot
Or that he wished he could have made it to in another lifetime
An empty packet of Swiss tobacco that even now would pain him to throw away because it cost more than a cross-country train
Good job he's held back plenty of travel cards too
"May the sun shine on the road you travel, and by its light may you ever be led"
Still in possession of the key that opened the house where your penchant for collecting things began
Seat 8A, how was the turbulence?
Is that where you drank your La Chouffe beer and drew a portrait on the coaster?
What did your fortune read, buried inside that cookie
Maybe I'm seeing it now through the fragments of what you left behind
The Indonesian postage stamp couldn't paint a more different picture of you than the business card for a car salvage lot based in St Helens
Stock and sample sales at the domestic botanist
A painted rock from the beach
"Sometimes you have to leave people behind to to find them," reads the fortune

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