The entire human race, on tour from themselves – some accompanied by canine equivalents – have arrived at a similar time as me on National Trust property.
Beyond the crowds is a deep-thinking stag, resting beneath the majestic trees, contemplating the next rut.
How did we all get here?
I used to spend so much time thinking about rhetorical questions …
… and now I can barely remember my own name.
Scottish friction / Scottish fiction.
An Outside World 