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On this breezy October morn, I walk
in the swift shadows of cloud-cursing rooks,
watching the world wake on the horizon.
All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.
Sausage rolls and apple balls
The most sold snacks today in Antwerp must be sausage rolls and apple balls.
We eat them on the first Monday in January and we call it Lost Monday.
I still have to eat mine at this moment.