What I was trying to say,” he whispered, “is that I see you in everything. There isn’t a word for you that means enough, because you’re everything to me.
There is always a sense of loss, a feeling forgotten. There is nothing else here; no castles, no ancient monuments, no hills like green clouds. It is just a curve of earth, a rawness of winter fields. Dim, flat, desolate lands that cauterise all sorrow.
