The Secret Intelligence Service I knew occupied dusky suites of little rooms opposite St James's Park Tube station in London.

I imagine what it must be like to stay hidden, disappear in the dusky nothing and stay still in the night. It's not sadness, though it may sound like it. I'm thinking about people and trees and how I wish I could be silent more, be more tree than anything else, less clumsy and loud, less crow, more cool white pine, and how it's hard not to always want something else, not just to let the savage grass grow.

The Secret Intelligence Service I knew occupied dusky suites of little rooms opposite St James's Park Tube station in London.