
It is 1963. The countdown starts; steady, sure, rhythmical. The floodlights go out for a full thirty seconds. It is dark, and it is thrilling. I am holding my breath. The floodlights come back on, and the air carries our triumph and our tears. The Union Jack is down. Our flag is up. A new […]
from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2dV47uG
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