The Sandpit | Brian Lewis

Longbarrow Blog

I am sitting in a pit in the back yard of my parents’ house. I am playing with a spade and a bucket and a few inches of sand. I am six years old. As I look up from the pit I see the house that my father has made. My father is a builder. I look down at the pit. It is not really a pit, the sides do not reach my ankles, the base is level with the concrete yard. When I push the spade down it buckles instantly. My father is a builder. He has filled the pit with builders’ sand. If I stand up the pit will disappear. I know this isn’t a beach. We are many miles inland. Yet I have built a shore from a memory of the shore. There is only room for me here.

We attain to dwelling, so it seems, only…

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