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"The Cross", Chester
Today, my son and I went our separate ways; he went to Holyhead, the train's final stop, while I walked about half of the castle walls. My legs and shoulders ached, and I felt wobbly. I found a bench and started to paint the Cross and black and white rows. A bustling town center, with racegoers dressed in their finery, converges at the Cross. But I noticed that I was drawing more windows than there were. I quit this painting.
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