Turtle Turning Wearing its storm-trooper’s helmet which is both rain-shelter and armour against predators my nephew’s pet turtle moves across its table-sized enclosure, crushing down the grass the way a Russian tank rolls over the debris scattered through a ruined city; its long-necked narrow head might belong to a snake, though it revolves in reconnaissance just as a periscope extends, especially when the reptile submerges in the pool at the centre of its domain to become a submarine. The pattern on the turtle’s shell is like a map of the world, or of the earth’s tectonic plates, but…
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