has set his poem in an American laundrette. Like him, I ignored the fact that a sticky magazine would not survive at all in archaeological conditions, and enjoyed the conceit of an entirely mundane, functional place being misinterpreted or missed entirely by archaeologists of the future. This is the great democracy of archaeology--that eventually the Laundromat gets equal billing with Ozymandias, and soap has equal currency with gold and frankincense.from The Guardian: Poetry workshop: Personal archaeology
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