<p><span

He went through the stile and into the darkening grove. He could smell some moist decay. A piney orange peace descended on him.

From page 286

<p

Suddenly some orange trees towered up ahead. He stared at them.
They were unlike anything he’d ever seen – behemoths, with their limbs etched in soft twilight, sloping down like a witch’s cap.

From page 286

<p

He reached his yellow path, night-bordered in turquoise cat’s eyes, which he didn’t recall ever noticing. There was a comfort in being back in his cul-de-sac, his ‘cluddy-sac’. He didn’t know the people but he knew the contours. It warms the cockles of my feet, he thought, and was soon inside his cottage.

From page 287

<p

He went through the revolving doors and down to Songs and Poetry, and peered into the room.

From page 297

<p><span

He walked steadily up the road, a riverbed alongside – more a shallow, silted-up waterway...

From page 326

<p><span

He walked out of his shelter, kicking aside rocks and broken twigs, and lay down on his back...  

From page 330

<p

              When Banno reached the lime trees straddling the long lane littered with their little lemon-coloured leaves, he knew he was home.

From page 354

2 3 4 5 6