Max Porter: Lanny

„He sits still.
He listens.
Here it is.
[…] Dead Papa Toothwort exhales, relaxes, lolls inside the stile, smiles and drinks it in, his English symphony,
[…] and waits for his favourite taste, but he hasn’t got to it yet,
[…]and then he hears it, clear and true, the lovely sound of his favourite.
The boy.“