Pulling In To Manchester Pulling in to Manchester, two days after the snowstorm that left a blanket of pure white innocents over the country, I couldn't help but smile. The snow was melting and sparse, it meerly looked like small flecks of dirty rubbish among the train tracks and back gardens. Nothing could disguise the dark, dank state of the country. Not even snow.
Me gusta
Comentario
Compartir
