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Liverpool, for Real



When you lift your scarf with both hands above your head and sing You’ll Never Walk Alone at Anfield, your heart inflates ten times its normal size, a well of emotions bores through your centre, and life suddenly seems infinitely more precious than it did just seconds before. ‘At the end of the storm is a golden sky/ And the sweet silver song of a lark…’ It was around the lark bit where I had to take stock. Pausing mid-song not only made me realise just how superior the voices around me…


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