’ ‘Jimi?’ ‘Hendrix, and Dave Gilmour.’ ‘Oh, I have heard them play.’ ‘I thought no-one under thirty would have heard of them.’ ‘My...parents, I hear a lot of older music.’ — We stood next to each other for the rest of the gig, swaying to the music, singing, playing air guitar. The music ended and Carlos Santana left the stage. The crowd began to make its way out. Gemma stayed by my side as we walked amongst the many that had stayed for the concert. I asked her where she was from, and then laughed. No, these feelings seem to come from the city itself.This is new, you think to yourself. The city has never felt at me before.As you ponder the situation before you, the feelings strengthen and coalesce into thoughts, words, and a voice. You are vaguely aware that you do not hear this voice in a conditional sense, but even so the city speaks to you in a voice of sweetness and warmth, but at the same time full of its sense of loss and longing."Dunsany," the city calls to you. "Henry Dunsany, my. More

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