London, May 1926. The General Strike. Men in queues. A city holding its breath, still counting the cost of a war that ended eight years ago. A seagull lifts from the Thames and turns east.
It crosses the North Sea. The grey becomes silver becomes the pale gold of the Baltic. Below: the dunes of Pomerania. A village called Wielki Klincz — German five years ago, Polish now, for the first time.
It is July 4th, 1926. A teacher unrolls a map. Children walk home through fields of cornflowers. That evening, they press flowers into pages, make drawings, write poems. Thirty-one names on one page of Volume 43.
The seagull watches from the roof. It has come a long way to see this.