HERE (AND NOW) Clusters of English "unofficial" roses have climbed the fence to face the sun. Each in its crimson finery supposes that it, alone, is the only one. Honeysuckle tangles with its vagrance bramble and lavender, rose and gorse, fills the still air with its golden fragrance ... there where the steps run a wayward course. Shamrock has camped with a fragile neatness just where the foxgloves have unfurled; the privet has flowered and its lemon sweetness hedges the edges of this living world. RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW Imagine you have an audience. (Which you have). And people are listening to everything you say. (Which they are). And everything you say is being written down. (Which it is). And may be used in evidence against you. (Which it will be). Don't you wish you could be alone?
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