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Outside the second hand bookshop, the proprietor puts out a box of yarns; odd balls of wool, chenille, acrylic, mohair, polyester, ruffled alongside pages of thumbed paperbacks, the odd sleek book on art worn at the edge, and glossy from old pockets, Observers' Books
of fungi, music, birds...
A few doors down they're turning on computers in the library.
can't put it down,
unravelling my find