Very soon Im moving, to a wonderful house on eight acres surrounded by farmland, bordered by a river and with the most beautiful oak tree that towers over the second storey attic where I will have my office. Its winter here now, the branches are bare and leave eerie shadows on the house walls and when the light catches "just right " on the floor of the room I will come to work in . The room that can only be accessed through a stairwell so narrow Im not sure how Im going to get any furniture up to whatsoever, but Im determined this is going to be my bolt-hole. I can see the farm land, eye up any approaching traffic and watch the garden to be planted grow below me. Downstairs in the bedroom that will become ours an old mirror rests against the wall covered in dust and stories of people who like me have stolen a glance, a quick peek as they have walked past.
The house Im sure holds many secrets, it was originally the local butchers shop and home. The bedroom the mirror is in, the mirror of dreams is actually the original shop where the locals came to purchase fresh kill. Ironic really as Ive been a vegetarian since the age of 10.
Canon 50D, prime 50mm lens