4th March 1671

Taking bearings from the moon I followed angry clouds down to the outskirts of a town where men dressed as badgers drank Gin and shot at occasional greenfly. I asked directions from a small man pearched upon an impossibly high chair who handed me a photo of a rusted metal fox and began to laugh. I am clad in the finest oak and lost to all that is normality, I have nothing to believe in but myself.

1 comment:

  1. Ilove this! You are my kind of person. Great descriptions and photos. I predict that you will have lots of followers. I love a mystery.