Houston, Gate E7, Heathrow-bound. Forty five minutes before boarding. Messy lines and selfies. A metal fish           juts uncomfortably from the wall. The fountain, broken. A little girl wobbles with her Mickey Mouse bag, looks inside, cries when she sees her pyjamas. A man peers and picks at a burger, tweets it, favorites a …

    Suddenly all of England opened up, opened out. Everything for miles was hills, fields, walls, crafted by furrowed skin lined with sun and soil. I’d almost forgotten about dancing. It was more than I remembered, even the endings, even with the fading swings and slides, the first snow never seemed pristine, turned to …