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Ewald and Ewald

travelling along the coast, I feel a sense of belonging: in the muted colour of the land, and the taste of the air. and though only a handful of generations make this place my home, it seems etched into my being. but in the shadow of those ruined abbeys and castles, I’m an interloper, an arriviste. does that explain the scattered wanderlust which grips the occasional few, in this far corner of the land?