Puncher & Wattmann
God is Waiting in the World’s Yard
by MTC Cronin
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The simplest of places that at every moment confronts with fresh ambiguities: ‘The world’s yard’: is it a tree-lined garden where children are playing? or the yard where a yardarm is erected, the executioner’s noose always dangling? or the boneyard where heretic and believer lie side by side to whisper their shared confidences? ‘Carnivorous laughter filters through the woods.’ Isn’t it always so?