I've been in Leicester a lot recently, but I didn't take this one myself. The one person who could draw me there every other weekend from my London idyll is now the fifth to send me a balloon. London suffered a dearth of Valentine's Day balloons compared to previous years (or perhaps the denizens of Maida Vale are not so keen to declare love in such a manner, or lose their tokens so carelessly to the air if they do), so it was good to learn that that paucity wasn't universal.
It has been a winter of balloons snagged in bare branches. I suspect their relative abundance is due to their stability and longevity, two features that set them apart from the other balloons here. Not fleeting, and with their fragility out of reach, they've lost their appeal, their challenge and their joy. So this will be the last snagged balloon. I toyed with the idea of deleting the others, but a few of them are favourites for various reasons, so they remain, but end here, at 45.
It has been a winter of balloons snagged in bare branches. I suspect their relative abundance is due to their stability and longevity, two features that set them apart from the other balloons here. Not fleeting, and with their fragility out of reach, they've lost their appeal, their challenge and their joy. So this will be the last snagged balloon. I toyed with the idea of deleting the others, but a few of them are favourites for various reasons, so they remain, but end here, at 45.
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