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19th December 1972 We left you then and you look no different. Of course, we’ve all changed. Some of us have shuffled off; others - grown old. I looked up last night and grainy footage replayed in my head - a small boy watching one small step, and a little later, the last man leaving. Then long years on fast forward. Then now. This old top-loader of tangled neurons: it still works well enough in ‘play’. But the rewind button has, of late, become faulty. moon in the living room dad in flared trousers Alan Peat Alan Peat is an English writer. In 2021 he placed third in the International Golden Triangle Haiku contest & second in the New Zealand International Haiku contest. In 2022 he was runner up in the British Haiku Society Haibun Award; honourable mention in the Haiku Poets of North California International Haibun contest & second in the Sandford Goldstein international tanka contest. In 2022 he was a guest author at Cornell University’s Mann Library. The following year he won the inaugural Touchstone Award for haibun. He has also written books about ceramics, textiles and surrealist art.
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January 2026
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