AST week, I was on the Isle of Lewis, crouched behind an old barbed-wire fence at dawn. The tide drew in around my boots, cold light broke through in the eastern sky and, out on the mud, a curlew cried. The previous evening, we’d stayed up late, having gloomy conversations with the outgoing party about how few fish they’d caught. They knew the
Money couldn’t buy it
Oct 25, 2023
2 minutes
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