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| | Loop Street
Loop Street walks up the hill all the way out to the border of the old town. Loop Street goes down to where the sea once waved hands and the ships in the harbour waited for wind.
Now there are roads beyond at either end and Loop Street, contained, no longer strolls down to the waves or up the hill.
But by day it still sails its pigeons up into the great blue air between the old buildings of another port in another time and calls them back to perch on streaked windowsills, to nest under eaves and in dank courtyards, out of the rain.
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