From the album Sacred Lines
My neighbour, Mrs. Pratt, had lived in her cottage for over 45 years. She was now in her eighties, her land had been eroded by the elements, and her home was hanging over a cliff. She ached to stay, but the powers that be thought it too dangerous, and in the stroke a pen, her life, her home, her experiences and memories of this place were rendered a statistic. Mrs. Pratt was relocated, and the beautiful sunsets which once filled her most joyous moments, now fall on barren ground.