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Roz Symon

Writer, Illustrator & Creative Communications Coach

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Posted on by Roz Symon

103

AsI walked high up into the snow buried hills where the only sound was the busy-ness of birds surviving sub-zero temperatures. Extreme weather conditions had frozen the awful pace of C21st living and I felt a peace too rarely known. I could have been standing 150 years ago, in a poem by Thomas Hardy.

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