In good weather, the guide reported, the residents of the city would often picnic here. The site was also the preferred place for children's birthday parties, confirmations, garden club luncheons and the like.
"There is so little green belt hereabouts," the guide said, "and we have not your hangups about dead bodies."
So close. The d-sound eliding toward t: bodtties.
Nearly vernacular: green belts (a slight edge toward a z-sound) uncommon in speech.
It was a pleasant place, even in the grey, a philosopher was buried there, although the guide could not manage to find his grave. He was sure that it was a greenish stone, inscribed with gold.
"Do you care for coffee?" the guide asked.
"Of course not," he giggled despite himself and the solemnity of the place.
What I meant was when intimacy rises, I forget the world isn't given to us alone, others watch, and we do perform publicly, each voice writing its widening space.