#england2025 — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #england2025, aggregated by home.social.
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Sunday. A golden autumn afternoon, the sun stands low, the light is flat and warm. Out walking with Castorp, to the vast field at the edge of town where he used to run. It's a development site now, some 30 or so new houses are already up, all built on the cheap by one of England's ruthless mega-builders. Castorp and I squeeze by on the narrow footpath that is still open, right next to the site. The warm autumn light reminds us that the world could be good. The path we walk on is filled with litter. Everything around us says farewell. Castorp, of course, is all excited and happy, untroubled by the ugly site, busy sniffing around to read the social media messages from his buddies in the grass.
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Sunday. A golden autumn afternoon, the sun stands low, the light is flat and warm. Out walking with Castorp, to the vast field at the edge of town where he used to run. It's a development site now, some 30 or so new houses are already up, all built on the cheap by one of England's ruthless mega-builders. Castorp and I squeeze by on the narrow footpath that is still open, right next to the site. The warm autumn light reminds us that the world could be good. The path we walk on is filled with litter. Everything around us says farewell. Castorp, of course, is all excited and happy, untroubled by the ugly site, busy sniffing around to read the social media messages from his buddies in the grass.
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Sunday. A golden autumn afternoon, the sun stands low, the light is flat and warm. Out walking with Castorp, to the vast field at the edge of town where he used to run. It's a development site now, some 30 or so new houses are already up, all built on the cheap by one of England's ruthless mega-builders. Castorp and I squeeze by on the narrow footpath that is still open, right next to the site. The warm autumn light reminds us that the world could be good. The path we walk on is filled with litter. Everything around us says farewell. Castorp, of course, is all excited and happy, untroubled by the ugly site, busy sniffing around to read the social media messages from his buddies in the grass.
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Sunday. A golden autumn afternoon, the sun stands low, the light is flat and warm. Out walking with Castorp, to the vast field at the edge of town where he used to run. It's a development site now, some 30 or so new houses are already up, all built on the cheap by one of England's ruthless mega-builders. Castorp and I squeeze by on the narrow footpath that is still open, right next to the site. The warm autumn light reminds us that the world could be good. The path we walk on is filled with litter. Everything around us says farewell. Castorp, of course, is all excited and happy, untroubled by the ugly site, busy sniffing around to read the social media messages from his buddies in the grass.
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Sunday. A golden autumn afternoon, the sun stands low, the light is flat and warm. Out walking with Castorp, to the vast field at the edge of town where he used to run. It's a development site now, some 30 or so new houses are already up, all built on the cheap by one of England's ruthless mega-builders. Castorp and I squeeze by on the narrow footpath that is still open, right next to the site. The warm autumn light reminds us that the world could be good. The path we walk on is filled with litter. Everything around us says farewell. Castorp, of course, is all excited and happy, untroubled by the ugly site, busy sniffing around to read the social media messages from his buddies in the grass.