Robin tells me 'I spend a lot of time thinking about being at Glastonbury when I am not here'. Likewise, I think I will spend much of the coming year drifting through it's fields.
Glastonbury is not the name of a festival but a city that emerges from its visitors' dreams and desires for one week each year. As walked through the festival site for the final time, at about six am on Monday, it was covered in an ethereal, thick fog. It seemed that this place was already losing it's material form and returning to dream and memory.
(C) David Foster 2010
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