Vanity of the bonfires

I like a nice witch-burning as much as the next person (as long as I get to choose the witch), so I was quite excited to see I’ve been given a box of matches and can of petrol by a well-meaning friend. But witch-burning is not on the agenda. Instead, a Savonarola-style purging of emotional treasures is the plan.

I have seen the glow of flames eating the edges of the night sky of the Slough on occasion – often cold, blue flames which I have thought were will-o’-the-wisps leading more hapless travellers to fall into the bog. But they are cold blue flames for another reason. There is no comfort in the destruction of old love and fond memories, and those bonfires are a vain attempt to secure fleeting warmth. I’ll keep my matches safe against the coming of an inflamable witch.

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