I was born in a farmhouse deep in the countryside
As a small girl I would look over the stone wall
And watch my neighbours and other locals
Travelling to a market in the next town
These were my happy and warm years
And then it all changed when my father was bankrupted
The farm of my childhood years was sold and we moved to a city
It was then that I decided not to grow older as life had disappointed me
I stopped my life at twenty-eight and have drifted around the city ever since
Over one hundred years have passed but I have not changed at all
About a month ago I travelled to my former home which I found much changed
The lane outside was now a busy and dangerous road and my wall has been rebuilt
My farm house has been split in two dwellings and the yard has given way to another home
This made my cry and as I travelled back to the city I thought of the tower blocks
As I had once been asked whether I found their illumination attractive to the eye
After a little consideration I had answered noting that against a grey light polluted sky
Then yes their illumination could be considered pleasing in an artificial way
But one could be quite as easily be reading Huxley on a wet winters evening