Brexit
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In the autumn of 1973, the chalk cliffs of Kent loomed over the grey churn of the English Channel, their white faces streaked with flint and despair. Dover’s streets, damp with the salt-kissed mist, wound through a town battered by economic rot and the weight of a government that seemed to care more for Whitehall’s Read more
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O tranquil mirrors of a crafted dream,Ye lakes of Craigavon, born of mortal hand,In nineteen-seventy’s dawn, a gleamOf vision carved thee from the sodden land.No ancient springs thy waters did beget,But engineers, with steel and sweat, did strive,To tame the floods that fields would oft beset,And grant a flood-born peace where towns might thrive.Thou hold’st Read more
Dany Slone 