Eva and I out on Sunday morning looking for breakfast. We're in the heart of East London, a cement playground where the only bit of nature to see is a weed growing between the sidewalk cracks. Suddenly, out of one eye I spy a sheep. And another. We turn the corner at the next block and we've been transported to the countryside. Hackney Farm, where friendly cows nuzzle up to you and shabby pigs drool their hellos.
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