Written by Bobartles

I couldn’t quite remember when I first claimed my little piece of sky; it had been mine for as far back as I could recall. Presumably I’d felt its call from the moment I was old enough look up and see that vast blue expanse, so pure, empty and ripe for the taking.

My piece was easy enough to find. You’d have to be standing in the garden of the old abandoned house down the road, at nine o’clock (AM) precisely- no sooner, no later- with a couple of rulers and a pair of sunglasses. The first ruler goes parallel to your gaze, from the lobe of your left ear. The second ruler runs perpendicular to that, fifteen centimetres along the first. Look up at the sun, count exactly seven-point-five-three centimetres to the right, and you’ve got the dead centre. Everything for an inch around that? Mine. My little piece of sky. A little easier to see at night, of course, when the stars are out as reference points to mark the borders.

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