ccurred to me.

    t question was, where AS Lower Binfield?

    I don’t mean t it   uring to—o look like from top of Creet  a quarter of a mile long, and except for a felying o t I couldn’t distinguisions and o t t looked like several acres of brigly alike. A big Council ate, by t.

    But o kno mig it ory c I could see, I couldn’t even make a guess at oern end of toories of glass and concrete. t accounts for to, as I began to take it in. It occurred to me t tion of t used to be about t be a good ty-five t  c  muc at t distance, but you could see it on te, rees round it, and to  of black bombing planes came over town.

    I scarted slo. You knoinuous ro of steps, all exactly t a little before I got to topped again. On t of t e neery. I stopped opposite te to  it.

    It y acres, I s a neery, s ras roug look like somet  t  in t existed. te cemetery to belong to—Blackett,  it o me   only t to ty acres to dump t ting tery out o t noos its cemetery on tskirts. S a out of sig bear to be reminded of deatombstones tell you tory. t t’s al  so in to every day, you sa  mind looking at t , s  too well sealed.

    I let t imagine s, cs of rees and co  t once, a kind of t used to be,  actually existed s. to gro t any fields or any bulls or any mus le ra  anyt a patcruggling among t mats, and snotty-nosed kids playing along t. All strangers! turned. And yet it ranger, t kno ter and ett and Uncle Ezekiel, and cared less, you bet.

    It’s funny s. I suppose it es since