When John Lennon lived here, at Menlove Avenue, he saw the nightscape in monochrome from the first floor bedroom window that was his. Sycamores, cherry blossom and poplars stir the same breeze and drop leaves from 60 years taller-wider branches. On the National Trust tour the day before with twelve others, in Aunt Mamie's kitchen, his bedroom, the front room, there were insights and anecdotes; but outside, alone in peace, in the unifying orange light I think I saw the world a little through his eyes.
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