{"type":"rich","version":"1.0","provider_name":"Transistor","provider_url":"https://transistor.fm","author_name":"The Disappearance Diaries of an Apprentice Hermit","title":"Border Lands: Season 3 - 1981-1983.","html":"<iframe width=\"100%\" height=\"180\" frameborder=\"no\" scrolling=\"no\" seamless src=\"https://share.transistor.fm/e/3a1ebf89\"></iframe>","width":"100%","height":180,"duration":1432,"description":"march 1981   having this,  no fantastic hate  can rob you;  not devils,   not warriors,  not demons;    nor even angels,  spying from their steep slopes,    nothing, truly nothing   can rob you –     nor even this town, that has a history of theft and mutilation:the churches empty,  the homes neglected  the parks choaked with weeds.  you do not need to stay.you do not need to pay.april 1981i’ve not wordsenough to say - i saw you walkingon the road today,nor eyes prepared to follow:folly ,prey.may i 1981eclipsing streets,a steady shore,an ordered crashof waves;through sunlight, shafts,marbled cloudsa far, far out horizon,unreachable;unbreachable.may ii 1981i amin envy of love;i am in envyof these two figures strong as the sun.i am in envy.june 1981how far do seas stretch?here, my love;beach, sand, dunes,and rocks, rising, cliffs, rising:we sit, hiddenin stumpyheat-drenched grass;a high hollow,spread with towels, a picnic, cigarettes:and two tight bodiescurled like babesobserving visions.july 1981on this shore – on every shorethe sea rolls, spreads,swobsexpandsexplainsbut we –you and i –we are fastened like limpets.we cannot  leave.september i 1981the wavesof last night’s stormlinger, loiterinsistendure: they stir still;they stir now,white, wild, whippingthe heavy sea is not becalmed;it slaps on jetties,smashes the sea walls,breaks up the boats;and we must shelter.september ii,1981i have cometo meet myself again –to catch up.find fault,find favour.it is the same homing, bleak sea,the same empty horizonblotted out by mist.my heart gives into it;beatslike a forbearing tide.october 1981behind me a television towerfeeds the air,feeds a hundred thousandunseen homes;feeds them all, gannetsrazorbills, gulls greedy as Ahabwith a rattle of stodgy voicesi cannot hear,mayday signalsfor the dying dayfor the yearning empty night.november i, 1981november.the pebbles are smooth,grey, oval, wet;they slide,roll,rattle;children gather driftwood;build bonfires.the inlet – south beach...","thumbnail_url":"https://img.transistorcdn.com/y_cYTZLY_554KjVwlUcuZrlxRcBDrk22LfvZgAeolVg/rs:fill:0:0:1/w:400/h:400/q:60/mb:500000/aHR0cHM6Ly9pbWct/dXBsb2FkLXByb2R1/Y3Rpb24udHJhbnNp/c3Rvci5mbS9iZmRk/MTYzM2EzNjc5ODZl/M2M4MGEzZGY1MzNm/NGU1YS5wbmc.webp","thumbnail_width":300,"thumbnail_height":300}