Dear reader
One day , earlier this year and while driving along the narrow country lanes of this fare county, I quickly found myself becoming disorientated by the repetition of farm buildings, hedgerows and grazing cattle. At this point, the reason I was out here with my camera was still unclear to me.
Lost, I pulled my car over to the side of the road, removed my flask from my bag and poured myself a cup of hot, black coffee. and stood outside of the car to embellish the summer sun of late afternoon.
I cannot say for sure how long it was that I was walking, perhaps only ten minutes, but I soon found myself at a farmhouse that might have been passed, unnoticed, by car had I not been on foot.
This is where I met her.
What are you doing here? She asked.
I am lost, I said.
We are all lost, she replied.
I get dizzy if I do this.
She spun herself around a tree several times before running towards me, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards a small wood building.
Do you see what I see? She asked
And what do you see? I replied
I see a reflection of myself but that is all I see, she said.
We talked about her childhood and her life growing up on the farm, and how she rarely left its boundaries. The sun had set before I left the farm and without directions.
But this did not matter to me.
