Walking through its town centre at night means running the gauntlet of screaming drunks and people either wandering about talking to themselves or threatening to talk to you.
But there is a quite beautiful church tower and wonderful old, gnarled trees in the centre that seem oblivious to the mayhem around them. And their presence changes almost everything.
After recently finding myself able to listen to the National Anthem (see previous post) and now this experience in Reading, am I discovering the fact that beauty can be found even in the ugliest places?
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