Jim Meredith

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In the distance, the white buildings of the city, green hills and peninsulas of the Hauraki Gulf, choppy waters, darkened by wind. Behind us, black lava fields fringed by crimson-flowered trees. The mountain we are sitting on came up out of the sea 600 years ago. We are on young ground. From where I am sitting, the past is a lonely place.
The Wren, the Wren
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