Ah so. This is probably the last time I will ever pass this way.
Tonight, I was just curious. I see it has become by far the less trodden
path - not that kiting was ever anything else :).
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be claspd no more
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam
Bye bye rec.kites,