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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
Hong Kong' s hidden rooftop farms... elderly people... and my imagination wandered a bit
We read an interesting article on Monday, in Monday Night's Owls' Skype session hosted by @NatashaT
: it was entitled: ' An inside view of Hong Kong's hidden rooftop farms '. It described the practice of carrying out garden farming on top roof of high tower blocks. In the article, the journalist enumerated all the advantages that such activity provided: compensation for shortage of farming lands on sea level, strict control on all the stages to grant the healthiness of production, savings on the building's energy's expenses due to thermal insulation, and opportunity for the elderly people to socialize, take light exercise and stave off dementia.
After reading and discussing the article, I tried to write down a comment: however, since I don't know that much about the topic, anything read being absolutely new to me, I began worrying I couldn't write anything at all.
I made an attempt though: I grasped the pen, the paper, and something, kind of a short story, appeared on the blank. I'd like to fix my errors and make sure what I write is understandable enough, so I would appreciate anyone's kindly feedbacks.
PS: never mind if you don't understand what I've written: that's the sort of things which, afterwards, often work with me too.
glad to stop strict diet, splashed in belly flop? Don't care you're not light, here on English hop !