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‘No. 5’

If we headed north to his place he would routinely send us, with a small bag of jellybeans, into the New Zealand bush that backed on to his house in the hills of Wellington, alone and with the instruction to return when we no longer had the energy to be curious. We would arrive back late – somehow we always managed to find our way following creeks or crevices or the decay that lies hidden in the bush, but perhaps my memory of this big world would almost certainly look small on google earth.

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