Posted by: robertanthonyyoung | October 22, 2013

Penwith

Walking along the clifftops that cornish afternoon. In and out of every cove and down. Scrabbling down the mess to these secret floors of mussels and warm views out to sea. Wanting to know, as if since grown up a child, all of these hills and all of these inlets like my own hands so landing in the black night is fine and a thing to be laughed at.

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