A passing ghost takes a Polaroid of allotment plots. The green is luxurious.
“One is starved of wabi-sabi up there”
Toby Miller
“You’ve got bindweed. You’ll need to dig it out and burn it” I helpfully yell.
But I died years earlier and all that remains of me is a sound the gardeners mistake for a rusty gate, and a chilly draft that reminds them it’s Monday tomorrow.
Toby Miller
Aha, at the end of the allotments there was a big outdoor party. A long table of food and drink and happy early summer conversation, and me staring at them like a ghost watching the living.
That’s what the afterlife will be like.
Toby Miller
If there is an afterlife I hope it’s just a long footpath running between allotments and a river.
(Posted from a new path I have found in Cambridge, running between allotments and a river. It’s happily leading me away from the train home)
